


the ravening clouds

by kernsing



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Beating, Child death of minor characters, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Mistakes Are Made, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Platonic Relationships, Possession, Prejudice against enhanced people, Protective Tony Stark, Referenced Child Abuse, Referenced involuntary filicide, SHIELD is sort of an antagonist, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark (background) - Freeform, Team as Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Family, between a rock and a potential hard place, but hopefully it isn’t bashed; just portrayed as making the wrong decision, for like...the mission you know?, just a lil bit of whump, malicious spirits, those mistakes being withholding information
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kernsing/pseuds/kernsing
Summary: Peter looks at Tony with wide eyes. It’s the next day, and Peter is sitting at the kitchen island in the Tower’s penthouse, feet swinging back and forth. “You’ll mean I get to help SHIELD catch an evil spiritandgo to a STEM summer program??”“Don’t sound so excited about the first part.”“Why not? I already agreed to it without you telling me about the program. Also, we’re helping SHIELD catch an evil spirit. Shouldn’t I get to be excited about that?”Tony just shakes his head.Tony and Peter go undercover as father and son in a major Texas city to help SHIELD track down a malicious spirit causing teenagers to die of spontaneous respiratory failure. Unfortunately, they both get more than they initially agreed to when it turns out SHIELD plans to hide a few key details from the children on the mission.It’s not exactly respiratory failure that causes the deaths.It’s something far worse.(Or:Nobody wants a repeat of last winter. Nobody gets what they want.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 113
Kudos: 149
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2020





	1. up through the darkness, the burial clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parkrstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/gifts).



> Exchange fic for the lovely parkrstark, who gave me some amazing prompts. This fic is based around prompt #3 (Peter and Tony go undercover as father and son), but I also take some inspiration from #1 (argument & kidnapping trope). And there’s one line of #2 (presumed dead) in chapter seven, which isn’t much, but it exists. 
> 
> A big thank you to Allison ([peterspajamas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterspajamas/)) for beta reading this work! Kudos to you 💛 
> 
> The fic & chapter titles are adapted from Walt Whitman’s “On the Beach at Night.”
> 
> The text messaging workskin is from [this tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722#workskin). If you would prefer to read the texting in plain text, you can turn the workskin off with the “Hide Creator’s Style” button at the top.

In the middle of one of Tony and May’s Thursday morning tea sessions, there’s a knock at the door of the Parker residence. Tony hides away in the kitchen while May answers it.

“Oh!” he hears her say. “Steve, Natasha, what a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in.”

Tony pokes his head out of the kitchen area. “Hey! Here to gossip about our favorite Spiderling with us?”

Neither of them smile, and Tony tastes his first dose of foreboding. “We _are_ here in part to talk about Peter, but it’s a rather serious matter. It’s best we sit down for this,” says Natasha, gesturing toward the seats in the living room.

Apprehensive, Tony takes a seat on the couch. May joins him a few seconds later.

“SHIELD’s requesting Peter’s presence on a mission, along with yours, Tony,” Natasha says. She holds up a hand when Tony immediately opens his mouth to respond. “Please, just listen to what we have to say first.”

He listens. He doesn’t change his mind. When Steve asks him if they’d be open to Peter going, his instant response is, “Absolutely not.”

“Tony—”

“I agree with Tony,” says May, crossing her arms. “This is crazy. Not even talking about the fact that there’s a malicious spirit involved, because I live in New York City. But asking Peter for help? Really?”

Steve sighs before leaning forward. “SHIELD wouldn’t ask unless they were desperate. Children are dying, and people are starting to get suspicious that it’s not just CO poisoning, especially with SHIELD hiding away the fathers afterward. The Order of the Mystic Arts has had no luck with tracking the spirit down. All that’s left is this.”

“‘This’ is using a child as bait,” says Tony. “It’s using _Peter_ as bait. Do you really think he’s equipped for this? I mean, you’re talking about an evil spirit that causes spontaneous respiratory failure. Even given his healing factor…is there really no other course of action?”

“SHIELD’s already tried having pairs of adult agents going undercover as fathers and their teenage sons, but the spirit hasn’t yet been deceived by people who are only acting.”

Tony pauses and scrunches up his eyebrows before he responds. “Wait a second. You’re saying you need authenticity for this father-son undercover thing, but SHIELD is asking for me and Peter?”

Steve and Natasha exchange glances. “Well, yes. Since you and Peter, you know…?” Steve gestures vaguely.

Tony keeps his face neutral as May raises her eyebrows. “In fact, I don’t know, but if you say so,” he says. Tony’s not sure how he feels about SHIELD making these sorts of judgments about his and Peter’s relationship when he himself has never been able to get a clear read of how Peter thinks of him.

After an awkward pause, Natasha says, “Look, we can give you a few days to think about it while SHIELD looks for volunteers elsewhere.”

“Where else are they looking?”

“They were thinking of asking some of their employees to volunteer with their own teenagers. Even if you two and Peter agree to do this, they might do it anyway. There’s an awful lot of potential victims, even given the constraints and the advisory to move out.”

“God,” says May. “That’s such a fucked up thing to ask for. Who’d volunteer their own kids for this?”

“The kid would have to agree to it too,” says Steve. “But yes, it’s still shitty, just like asking for Peter is. But the only other choice SHIELD has is to sit around as more kids die and hope Dr. Strange and his people figure out a tracking spell, which, as we’ve said, they’ve had no luck with.”

Natasha says, “Peter’s the only kid they’re asking for by name, you know. Out of everyone in his age range, he’s the best by far.”

“Of course he is,” murmurs Tony.

May scrubs a hand through her hair. “I want to say that we should defer the decision to Peter himself, but I know that he’d agree without a second thought. Because he thinks if he can help, then he should, always.”

“You raised a good kid,” says Steve.

“I raised a stress machine, is what I did.” May smiles. “He is such a good kid. I don’t know how much of it is from me, though.” Her expression twists before it settles on something serious. “I…I think we should let him choose, Tony. Even if he would want to say yes. Maybe especially, if he really can help.”

Tony’s first instinct is to repeat what he’d said at the beginning—absolutely not—but he bites it back as he considers May’s words. He looks around the Parker apartment and finds a picture of Spider-Man swinging around Queens framed on a bookshelf. He knows it’s right. He never second-guesses Peter’s goodness, the virtue of his willingness to help. Tony keeps his gaze fixed on the picture as he says, “On one condition.”

“What is it?”

Tony looks back toward Steve. “If Peter agrees, he should have the opportunity to get something educational out of it.”

Natasha holds up her hand to count on her fingers. “I mean, the undercover skills alone—”

“—Real education, not what spy-assassins count as education. No offense, Nat.”

“Offense taken.”

“I’ll not sleep tonight, then. No, I meant like…a dual-credit course or university program or something that’ll help him with his college applications. After all, it’s the last summer he’ll have as a rising high school student. It also might keep his mind off of the whole ‘we’re posing as bait for an evil spirit’ thing.”

Steve and Natasha look at May, who nods enthusiastically.

“We’ll ask SHIELD about it.”

* * *

Peter looks at Tony with wide eyes. It’s the next day, and Peter is sitting at the kitchen island in the Tower’s penthouse, feet swinging back and forth. “You’ll mean I get to help SHIELD catch an evil spirit _and_ go to a STEM summer program??”

“Don’t sound so excited about the first part.”

“Why not? I already agreed to it without you telling me about the program. Also, we’re helping SHIELD catch an evil spirit. Shouldn’t I get to be excited about that?”

Tony just shakes his head.

Peter shrugs. “Anyway, what exactly am I gonna do in this STEM summer program?”

“It mostly consists of shadowing engineering grad students conducting their own research, an introduction to how that sort of thing works in university settings. There are several concentrations for different kinds of engineering; we signed you up for the chemistry one. Topics covered include biotechnology. I know you’ve been looking into making your webbing biocompatible enough to serve as cartilage implants; maybe seeing how things are done outside the corporate world will give you a few ideas.”

Peter is almost vibrating off the edge of his seat. “Oh wow. Oh wow—”

“—There are also workshops for various topics, including writing your college applications—”

“—oh wow,” says Peter again, although in a distinctly different tone of voice. “Yeah, yeah, okay, _Dad_.”

Tony refuses to acknowledge that his heart flutters at the title. “There is another thing. About that.”

“About what?”

“So we’re going undercover to draw out—whatever it is that’s causing these deaths. It, uh, specifically targets sons when their fathers are around.”

“Oh,” says Peter. “ _Oh_. So…you’re going to be…and I’m going to…”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Peter looks thoughtful. “Neat.”

Before Tony can parse what on earth that’s supposed to mean, Peter has gotten off the stool he’s been sitting on and is jumping around the place. “The summer program sounds so freaking cool! How long is it going to be? Which university is hosting it?”

“Four weeks, although the mission may take longer than that. We’ll be in Austin, Texas, so it’ll be hosted by the engineering school of the University of Texas at Austin.”

“Ooh nice. Ned’s looking into its Turing Scholars Program. He’s going to be so jealous when he hears about this.”

“Jesus, I hope not. Remember the part about the recent influx of magic-related dying?”

“I mean, he only has moms, so. That part only applies to me, potentially.”

“Peter, I’m going to have to ask you to please stop talking.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t think I understand what your version of ‘fun’ means.”

Peter sticks out his tongue before smiling again. “Thanks so much, Mr. Stark.”

Tony blinks. “What for?”

“Well, SHIELD would never suggest something like this, so you were the one who asked for the college program thing, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Tony’s surprised when Peter comes in for a hug, but he’s used to it enough that his arms encircle the kid automatically. “So thank you,” says Peter, muffled against his shirt.

Tony blinks again, eyes suspiciously ticklish. “You’re very much welcome.” He clears his throat as Peter disengages the hug. “The second session of the program starts on the twenty-third, which is two Mondays from now. We’re leaving this coming Wednesday. Happy will pick you up at around ten in the morning, you’ll come to SHIELD’s headquarters in the city for the official briefing, and then the Order of the Mystic Arts will portal everyone to Austin.”

Peter’s pulled out his phone and is typing on it. “Okay, got it.”

Tony smiles, and they head down to the labs for the afternoon. When Peter takes his leave, it’s with a cheeky, “See you tomorrow, Dad!” and Tony wonders how his heart is supposed to survive this mission.

* * *

**Fri, Jul 13,** 7:46 PM  
  
**Peter:** good evening ned u would not BELIEVE!!!!!!  
**Peter:** also i kind of want to die sljkdfhklsdfhds  
  
**Ned:** dude what happened  
  
**Peter:** im going to spend a month of my summer in austin texas @ the big university there!! for a research camp thing!!!  
**Peter:** gonna be shadowing engineering grad students doing their own research  
**Peter:** im so hyped to see what university research its like!!!  
  
**Ned:** omg peter!! that sounds amazing!!!!  
**Ned:** wait  
**Ned:** aren’t the weirdly selective carbon monoxide poisoning cases happening in some texas city  
**Ned:** i could have sworn they were happening in austin WHY are may and mr stark and the rest of the avengers letting you do this wtf  
**Ned:** are you even legally allowed to travel there right now??  
  
**Peter:** the carbon monoxide thing are actually why im going in the first place   
**Peter:** theres some shield related shit involved and me and mr stark are going over there to help them try and find out whats going on  
**Peter:** i think there’s like, an advisory against going there, but nothing where it’s illegal  
**Peter:** ned i get to do science!!!  
  
**Ned:** shield is involved??? and they asked you for help?????  
**Ned:** i mean, i guess i’m not surprised by the first part, bc shit’s been crazy down there, but still  
**Ned:** they asked you for help????????  
  
**Peter:** yeah its WACK  
  
**Ned:** oh my god my best friend is going to DIE just because he wants to do science  
  
**Peter:** hey!!! i actually accepted the mission BEFORE mr stark told me about the summer program  
**Peter:** twas not a bribe but a bonus  
  
**Ned:** you’re ridiculous  
  
**Peter:** ........ur not supposed to know abt shield being involved  
**Peter:** or that theres anything other than co poisoning going on  
**Peter:** dont talk abt it to anyone  
**Peter:** or to me while im on the mission  
**Peter:** because im gonna have to use a phone shield gives me and theyre probably gonna spy on what i say  
**Peter:** is what mr stark said  
  
**Ned:** dw my lips are sealed  
**Ned:** now tell me why you want to die sljkdfhklsdfhds  
  
**Peter:** did u. did u just type out my exact keysmash letter by letter  
  
**Ned:** it’s called COPY PASTE, peter  
  
**Peter:** that  
**Peter:** that makes sense  
**Peter:** ignore me im dumb  
**Peter:** anyway  
**Peter:** for more evidence that im dumb—  
  
**Ned:** hhhhdsf peter ur NOT dumb  
  
**Peter:** you called me a dumbass on tuesday  
  
**Ned:** that’s because you put an ice cream cone in a toaster oven and made a mess like a dumbass  
  
**Peter:** i was just curious!!!  
**Peter:** anyway that doesnt address my argument: you called me dumbass, therefore im dumb  
  
**Ned:** dumb isn’t the same as dumbass you can be smart and a dumbass  
  
**Peter:** touche. but then i contend that i am both dumb and a dumbass  
  
**Ned:** *sigh*  
  
**Peter:** anyway back to the main convo  
**Peter:** so apparently the cases all involve dads & their sons  
**Peter:** guess what shield wants me and mr stark to go undercover as??  
  
**Ned:** oh my god. oh mY GOD  
**Ned:** ARE YOU SAYING  
  
**Peter:** YES IM SAYING  
  
**Ned:** OH MY GOD??????  
  
**Peter:** AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID WHEN MR STARK TOLD ME THAT???  
  
**Ned:** WHAT???? DID???? YOU??????? SAY?????????  
  
**Peter:** I SAID “NEAT” AND IMMEDIATELY REGRETTED MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE  
  
**Ned:** MMPDHFSDH  
  
**Peter:** AAASDHKJFJK I HAVE NEVER FELT SO MORTIFIED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE  
  
**Ned:** LJSDHFJKDSFLJDSK  
**Ned:** no no this is GOOD  
**Ned:** both of you need to be more emotionally open with each other  
**Ned:** did. did you have a heart to heart after??????  
  
**Peter:** no i panicked and starTED RAMBLING ABOUT THE SUMMER PROGRAM AGAIN  
**Peter:** HE LOOKED SO CONFUSED FOR A SECOND  
  
**Ned:** HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
  
**Peter:** i did end up saying thank you and hugging him tho  
  
**Ned:** good.......good...........  
**Ned:** i can’t believe a solid 27% of my life is now dedicated to helping my emotionally incompetent friend adopt an equally emotionally incompetent dad  
**Ned:** and also that dad is tony mcfucking stark  
  
**Peter:** uh excuse you, his middle name is mcedward  
**Peter:** and i dont need your help >:( i can do perfectly fine on my emotionally incompetent own  
**Peter:** he’s going to be fully adopted by the end of this summer at LEAST  
  
**Ned:** neat  
  
**Peter:** shut—  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the university exists, the summer program in this fic is fictitious. It is a mashup between [these](https://www.summerdiscovery.com/u-texas-austin/academic-options?subject=17%7C50) [two](https://nascent.utexas.edu/fellowship-program) real programs and plot needs. 
> 
> you would not believe how ANGRY i am that the shocked pikachu meme came out in september 2018 which is RIGHT AFTER the summer this is set in i feel CHEATED


	2. lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic summary has been updated to reflect my usual style and be less spoilery, although you can still check the tags to find out what happens. 
> 
> Steve/Tony was requested, but I don’t really write explicit romance. However, I do love thinking of them as very close, and you are free to read whatever you like into how I write them. 
> 
> Mild depiction of a panic attack in this chapter.

July eighteenth comes far too early, just like the New York summer sunrise. The team finishes breakfast at nine thirty-five and takes the fifteen minute walk to SHIELD’s Manhattan headquarters while Happy goes to pick up Peter. Tony hasn’t had nearly enough caffeine, so he grumps all the way at the chirping birds and cheerful sunlight.

SHIELD HQ is busy when they arrive. The lobby swells with people rushing about. It’s less crowded when they reach their floor, but it’s still fairly full.

Someone spies them and motions them toward a room off to the side. “Announcement just came. Some classified information has been released, and there’s a meeting before the official briefing.”

“What?” says Natasha. “Why not just announce it during the briefing?”

The person shrugs. “Heck if I know. I’m just a secretary.”

The room is filled with SHIELD agents whispering at each other. There’s not a single kid in sight. The Avengers trundle in toward a spot in the back, and soon they join the whispering.

“What could they possibly be hiding behind magically-induced respiratory failure?” asks Clint.

“Please don’t jinx us,” says Tony. “None of the children are here. I don’t like the looks of this.”

Natasha is frowning. That’s always a bad sign. “I don’t either.”

Happy joins them some five minutes later. “Peter’s waiting outside. A little miffed that the rooms here are all soundproofed. Do you guys have any idea what this is about?”

They all shake their heads.

Not long after, Nick Fury and Maria Hill enter the room, and the voices die down. “Thank you,” Fury says. “Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here, but I’d like to start with some preliminary material. The following information is highly sensitive. It cannot leave this room. Children dying is bad enough, but if this gets out to the public, it would likely cause something on par with the panic last winter.”

Uneasy murmuring. Tony stays tense and quiet. Everyone on the team steps closer to each other, and Tony leans on Steve.

Fury holds up a hand; the room falls silent. “You all see the importance of keeping a secret, then. Good. Let’s get onto the details. We’ve told you that the kids die of spontaneous respiratory failure, but that’s not entirely true.”

Somebody deadpans, “Are you saying you were shitting us with the talk about the evil spirit.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “No. That’s still involved. And most of the kids do die of lack of oxygen. It’s just not instantaneous or directly the product of magic.”

“Then how is the thing still involved?”

“The Order of the Mystic Arts tells us there are different types of spirits with different abilities to influence the material world. Some can directly interact with objects and people, some can only speak…”

Hill has her arms crossed. “Nick, just rip off the bandaid already.”

“…this one can possess certain people to do its bidding. It possesses fathers, to be exact. And then it uses them to kill the kids, usually via strangulation, although there have been cases of stabbing and blunt force trauma as well.”

Overlapping voices fill the room. Tony’s barely aware of the noise or of the fact that it’s his own incredulous laugh that quiets everybody down. “Get some better material, Fury. I don’t believe you. There’s been, what? Forty cases linked to it in the past three months? That’s almost a tenth of the filicide rate for the entire country. There’s no way you could keep something like this a secret—people should be rioting in the streets by now. Now tell us why we’re really here.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t lie about this, Stark. SHIELD has been meticulous in covering up the cases. If you’ve been following the news, you’d know we’ve been sequestering the fathers and any witnesses away from the public. We’ve also been able to cut the local police out of the investigation thanks to the Order of the Mystic Arts. They can track where the spirit has been, even if they can’t tell where it is or where it will be. Something about detectable magical residue. The point is that they’re able to catch most of the cases before they make it to the ears of the local officials.”

Fury exchanges glances with Hill before continuing, “The truth does get out sometimes. We’ve been relying on hush money to make sure that none of the magical aspects do. We also have an agreement with the press to report these cases as isolated incidents of filicide. As you say, there’d be mayhem if people knew the entire truth.”

Tony’s struggling to breathe. Something heavy has descended on his chest, and a hand goes up to his arc reactor. Beside him, Steve takes his other hand and closes it around his own pulse point. Tony attempts to inhale and exhale to Steve’s heartbeat.

One of the agents asks, “Why aren’t the kids here? Shouldn’t they know?”

Hill responds, “They can’t. It’s just too much of a liability.”

Peter. They don’t want him to tell Peter.

Tony can’t breathe. He can’t, he can’t. He’s only dimly aware of the continuing conversation.

The same person as before: “Won’t one of the them figure it out anyway if all goes to plan?”

Hill: “If all goes to plan, we’ll have caught the thing by then too. Secrecy won’t matter as much at that point. And one kid is better than many kids.”

Someone else: “Isn’t it unwise to keep crucial details from key players? The kids won’t be as effective if they don’t know what exactly they should watch out for.”

Fury: “We know they won’t. But we don’t think it’s unwise. We have enough failsafes in place that the efficacy of individual players doesn’t matter as much.”

Another agent: “I’m sorry, but you can’t expect me to both let my kid risk his life and let him do so without full knowledge of what he’s getting into.”

Fury: “We can and we will. If it’s too much, you can withdraw. If you refuse to follow the rules and tell your kid, both of you will be forcibly pulled out of the mission and censured.”

Tony looks up sharply.

“Censure my kid? He doesn’t work for you,” the agent scoffs, eyebrows raised.

But Tony knows the comment was directed at himself and Peter. He doesn’t want Peter on SHIELD’s bad side. Not when Peter’s the future of the Avengers. Not when they’re vouching for Spider-Man to the public.

Not when he’s seen the damage bad publicity can do.

It’s enough to shake him out of his panic and into his anger.

Fury waves the agent’s question off. “You know what I mean. You’ll be off the mission and on probation. And don’t think you’ll be able to get away with telling them in secret. Someone from interrogations will be around every week to see how you’re doing, we’ll be tracking the phones we give you, and we’ll be monitoring your every movement and sound with the watches specially made for this mission.”

Tony doesn’t know how they’re processing the massive amounts of information that constant monitoring produces, if they’ve got the technology capable of doing so. But he knows he’s not going to risk tampering with their tech when Peter’s reputation is riding on it, and he knows Fury knows too.

They’ve caught him off guard. This isn’t supposed to happen.

Tony crosses his arms. “Look, what everyone means is, the kids deserve to know. It’s wrong to keep this from them.”

“Sure, it’s wrong. But it’d be far worse if this got out to the public. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Tony glares at Fury. “I do.”

“Not if you don’t think the kids are an information liability.”

“If these kids are responsible enough to risk their lives, then they’re responsible enough to keep a secret.”

“How much do you say _your_ kid has already told his best friend?”

Tony can feel strangers staring at him. He clenches the fist that’s not in Steve’s hand but keeps his voice firm. “Honestly? His friend might know that he’s going to Austin for reasons related to SHIELD. But anyone following the news knows that _something_ is going on by now, and that SHIELD investigates these sorts of somethings. I guarantee you, he’s said nothing about the magical aspect. I trust him.”

“Then you should trust him to be fine with this, too.”

“It’s just not right!”

“I already acknowledged that. But doing the right thing in this case could lead to the worse result.”

Tony’s seething; even worse, he can follow Fury’s reasoning. He could see himself saying the same thing in the same position. It would be mayhem if people found out. And trusting, what, twenty or so kids to keep it all under wraps? It’s not like it would be fair for Peter to get special treatment either.

Maybe Fury’s right.

The thought immediately shames him, douses his ire. The difference is, Tony knows Peter. Doesn’t Tony trust him? Wouldn’t Tony tell him if he could without fearing SHIELD finding out?

Maybe he wouldn’t. And suddenly, Tony’s angry again, at the situation, at SHIELD, at himself.

Hill speaks up. “Thirty more minutes before the general briefing. If you don’t show up, we’ll assume you’ve chosen to withdraw. If anyone asks, this meeting was about how to take money out of SHIELD’s bank account during the mission.”

Fury nods. “See you later. Or not.”

Fury and Hill walk out the door and shut it behind them. The room explodes into conversation.

In their corner, Steve asks Tony, “How are you?” He grimaces. “Sorry, stupid question.”

“No, it’s fine.” Tony lets go of Steve and rubs his hand over his face. “I’m angry as hell, is how I am.”

Natasha’s mouth is set in a hard line. “I can’t believe they waited this long to tell us.”

“They’re going to bug us to the nines in half an hour. Ensures compliance,” says Bucky.

“Are you going to tell Peter that you’re out?” Rhodey addresses Tony. “Everyone here would understand if you did.”

Tony doesn’t have nearly enough time to make a thoughtful decision. He tries to, anyway. “We need to stop this thing. I can…I can handle everything if it means we have a chance of catching it. And Peter can too, much better than a regular kid. He has override access to all my suits. He’s stronger than me. He’ll be fine.” Tony rubs his hands over his face. “Peter would be mad about us making the choice for him, but he’d still want to do this. Honestly, I think he’d be angrier if I backed out because of this.”

Nobody tells him he’s wrong.

In a minute, someone opens the door, and people start to file out; the Avengers follow them and make their way to where Peter is sitting.

Peter’s mouth twists down when he sees Tony. “You look so weird without the beard and mustache.”

“Hey,” says Sam, “show your father some respect.”

“But it’s true!” says Peter. “He looks! Weird!”

That’s definitely something he’ll text his friend with an excess of exclamation marks later.

Tony just raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Show your father some respect,” he echoes. Peter has the audacity to roll his eyes at him.

The exchange doesn’t make him as jittery as he expected. Instead, he just feels like he always does with Peter, like he’s settled next to a cozy fire in the winter, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

It scares him. It scares him even more now, with what he knows about the mission. He prays Peter feels differently; he prays he feels the same. Tony feels selfish either way. Who is he to ask others to trade their children for his? Who is he to ask Peter to be his child?

“So what was that all about? And why wasn’t I invited?” Peter nods his head toward the meeting room.

Natasha gives him Hill’s lie. “Going over how to access SHIELD’s bank account while out on the mission. Can’t have you kids taking all their money.”

“Oh,” says Peter, disappointed. “That’s boring.”

Tony can’t meet Peter’s eyes. He settles himself into the seat next to Peter and pretends he’s intensely interested in the posters on the wall to the left.

Peter still gets him to laugh twice before the official briefing.

They file into the new meeting room, serious and quiet. It ends up about as full as the previous meeting was. Half of them don’t show. Tony’s almost envious.

In a few minutes, Hill and Fury enter.

They mostly review information that’s already been covered. An unidentified malicious spirit killing children in the Texas capital, the only witnesses the kids’ fathers. The official story about carbon monoxide poisoning and improper handling of natural gas. The public already suspicious that there’s something more at play. Keeping the magical nature under wraps just in case it could spark prejudice against enhanced individuals.

They gloss over the fact that the fathers don’t just witness the deaths, the fact that is almost guaranteed to cause panic. Tony feels the room grow tense, the adults present exchanging guilty glances.

Hill and Fury don’t even blink. Fury continues, “Several agents and their children will pose as bait for the spirit. Everyone should be wearing special watches that will transmit an emergency signal to everyone else if manually activated, if your vital signs spike, or if they are removed. Does anyone not have one?”

Silence.

“Good. Keep them on at all times.” Fury moves on, “If they’re activated, at least one of the sorcerers from the Order of the Mystic Arts—most likely Dr. Strange—should be able to immediately respond. There will also be three other agents living on the same floor of the apartment complex for every pair of volunteers.” Peter and Tony have four people on their protection detail, actually. Steve, Rhodey, and Natasha have been assigned to them, but Happy is joining too. Since he doesn’t work for SHIELD, it’s unofficial.

“We do want to catch this thing,” says Hill, “before any sort of mass hysteria happens, before it potentially widens its scope to any other cities, before it simply causes more deaths. But we also understand that it’s a heavy mission. All volunteers will have the option to withdraw at any time during the mission. Do you all understand?”

Several nods. Tony wonders why they’re going through the motions of consent when the kids _don’t know_. He scowls and refuses to give assent.

“And everyone should know the names they’re going by as well as the names of the people they’ll be spending time around. If you didn’t get a list, contact one of the supervisors for this mission.”

Tony Stark and Peter Parker. Dexter Collins and Peter Collins. It’s not horrible.

Hill and Fury are satisfied at this point. “All right. We’ll contact Dr. Strange to do the honors, then. Please go to your assigned rooms and wait for teleportation.”

This is Tony’s last chance to back out before everything starts. He loathes himself deeply as he thinks, _Better Peter than the other kids_. Loathes himself even more for his next thought. _You don’t deserve to think of yourself as his parent. He won’t be in any danger anyway; a sacrifice of other children for his life._

Clint, Wanda, Bucky, and Sam have been assigned to different pairs of volunteers, and they bid farewell to the rest of them before heading to their own separate rooms.

In a few minutes, a portal appears. It’s a little surreal, stepping into a small, dark studio from the bright conference room, lugging no small amount of suitcases in after them. Their little group bumbles through the person-wide portal, and several people in robes welcome them as the last of the golden sparks fizzle out. Two standing lamps illuminate the piles and piles of books scattered throughout the room. There doesn’t seem to be any furniture in sight.

“Interesting decor,” says Tony.

“This isn’t the living room or bedroom,” one of the robed people says. “It’s a temporary section of our library collection we consult when needed. We hope to close it soon.”

The group says their thank-you’s to the sorcerers before taking two elevator trips down to where a Chevrolet Suburban is waiting for them in the apartment’s parking garage. After stuffing their luggage in the back, Happy takes the driver’s seat and the rest of them bundle into the car, with Tony and Peter in the back row. Tony fusses over Peter, shoving cold water bottles at him so he won’t get heatsick or dehydrated in the ninety-to-a-hundred-degree-plus weather. It’s a short ride since both apartments are located just north of the UT campus, but nobody wants to walk outside in the Texas summer, especially with Peter on board. Tony swears he can see the sidewalks simmering from the heat. He’s going to make sure Peter takes an ice pack or two with him whenever he goes out during the day.

After they unpack, they get takeout from a nearby Mediterranean restaurant. The new apartment residents decide to eat together in Tony and Peter’s kitchen. Rhodey and Happy arrive first, then Steve and Natasha.

Peter chatters about the summer program in between bites of his gyro. “I looked over the schedule—it says the first week’s mostly devoted to orientation. So like, meeting people, reviewing lab procedures, and going on a tour of the university.”

Tony hums in acknowledgment.

“I am a little worried about how I got in. I know these sorts of camps usually require applications, but SHIELD obviously pulled a few strings to get me in.” Peter shifts in his seat. “Just makes me a little uncomfortable, is all.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s for the good of your education. And this program in particular didn’t need you to write essays or whatnot to get in, just good science grades. The only thing unusual about your case was how late it was.” Tony elects to omit how much it costs.

“Oh.” Peter relaxes. “Okay, I can live with that.”

“You know,” Rhodey tells Peter, “if there had been anything like a real application process, you would’ve been a shoe-in anyway. You’re smart as hell.” Rhodey grins, looks pointedly at Tony. “You know what they say about apples and trees.” Tony kicks Rhodey’s leg beneath the table.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” says Peter, eyes wide and innocent as he turns toward Tony. “What do they say about apples and trees, Dad?”

“You’re killing me. You’re killing your father,” says Tony, deadpan.

Unbidden comes the thought, _Did you forget it was the other way around already?_ It immediately rattles him with guilt at having forgotten why they’re here, with the embarrassed knowledge that Peter’s probably only joking, and that he wasn’t, not completely.

No matter what everyone says, Peter’s never seriously called him “Dad” or referred to him as his parent. It relieves him that they might be safe from whatever’s out there; it shames him when he thinks about the volunteers from SHIELD; and it aches so, so much.

Peter is talking about the topics for the hosted workshops, and Tony shakes himself out of his spiral so he can pay attention again. The other adults shoot him worried looks. He shakes his head at them.

He’s fine. He has to be fine. 

* * *

**Wed, Jul 18,** 9:22 PM  
  
**Peter:** sometimes i wonder if its all in my head  
  
**Ned:** if what’s all in your head?  
  
**Peter:** yknow, if mr stark really does think of me like his kid kid  
**Peter:** like yeah ive caught him calling me his kid before but thats not necessarily the same as u know his Kid(TM)  
  
**Ned:** you’re overthinking it  
**Ned:** he definitely acts like your parent  
  
**Peter:** i dont think we’ve ever had a non jokey interaction involving the words parent or dad or son  
**Peter:** we’ve never said the words i love you  
**Peter:** not even after what happened last winter  
**Peter:** maybe im just clingy to all the adults in my life  
**Peter:** what if im reading too much into this ned  
  
**Ned:** fwiw, i don’t think you are  
**Ned:** based on like, the five times he’s come to midtown  
**Ned:** and the study sessions he lets you host in the tower  
**Ned:** and like a million other things  
**Ned:** but you know you can never resolve this until you have an Actual Conversation, right?  
  
**Peter:** the thing is!!! though!!! what would i even SAY in an Actual Conversation  
**Peter:** im just like. calling him dad because i have an excuse  
**Peter:** but its not like its ever really meant that much to me as a title   
**Peter:** i never called ben my dad, i dont call may my mom  
**Peter:** even parent im,,,fairly neutral on??? though i call may my parent sometimes?  
**Peter:** but i know other people dont treat those words the way i do. so a part of me does want to,,,,,,,,,,idk??? be acknowledged in those terms?  
**Peter:** bc the way i see them in my life does fit how ppl think parents should fit into their kids lives  
**Peter:** its not really the specific title thats important its the social expectations surrounding those titles  
**Peter:** orphan baggage 😔  
  
**Ned:** you: what would i say in an actual conversation  
also you: *text storm of what you should say in an actual conversation*   
  
**Peter:** okay but that requires,,,,emotional vulnerability  
  
**Ned:** that’s what many actual conversations consist of, peter  
  
**Peter:** no u  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I almost had them all go take a commercial flight from the JFK Airport to Austin before I remembered that Stephen can teleport and I’d already established that some of his people were in the city. But still, someone should write that fic (Avengers undercover at a public airport—maybe taking a lowkey vacation?) because it would be a DISASTER.
> 
> also:  
> > They gloss over the fact that the fathers don’t just witness the deaths, the fact that is almost guaranteed to cause panic.  
> KUZCO’S FACT  
> okay, now i am free of it


	3. amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east

“Okay, let’s go over the ground rules for Spider-Man,” says Tony, hands on his hips.

It’s the evening of their second day away from home. Peter squints at Tony. “Again? Didn’t we already do that, like, every day for the past week?”

“No, it’s only been nearly every day.” Tony clasps his hands together. “Now look lively! Quiz incoming.”

He can’t be serious. Peter throws up his hands. “Please no. I can recite them all at this point.”

Tony makes a gesture whose meaning Peter can’t puzzle out for the life of himself.

“What?”

“Recite them, then.”

What a Decathlon parent. Peter can’t believe he’s made this. “Ugh, fine.” Peter starts pacing around and counting on his hands. “First, the rules from back home. Be back before two, negotiate exceptions with Karen, and get at least thirty-five hours of sleep per week. Don’t treat serious injuries by yourself. Call for backup if there are more than two guns. Don’t text and swing.” Peter’s on the side of the wall by now. “Now, the rules for here. Keep the wall-crawling and web-slinging to a minimum. Try to mask the super-strength. Don’t turn off the voice modulator. Let people assume that I’m an imitation.” Peter looks at Tony again, upside-down now. “Did SHIELD really plant that Spidey imitation in San Francisco a few weeks ago?”

“Apparently. Don’t be upset though, the one in Chicago sprang up all on its own.”

Peter pouts. “I’m not upset. I don’t care about the imitations.”

Tony looks at him. “Sure. It’s not like you spammed everyone with the links to all the news articles that covered them when they started up.”

“Pfft. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter looks down (or rather, up) at his shoes. “Is it bad that I shut down the Spider-Man-fake-in-Queens idea? And that I still don’t like the backup plan of putting fake photos on social media? Like, I know we don’t want people being suspicious that I’ve disappeared. But I still feel uncomfortable with people thinking that Spider-Man is in Queens helping people when that’s not true.”

“You’re good, Pete. I’d be uncomfortable too if SHIELD wanted to put out an Iron Man fake that didn’t actually do anything. And it’s not like you’re actually doing anything to stop the fake photos.”

“I don’t think they’d let me, to be honest.”

Tony shrugs. “They probably wouldn’t. SHIELD’s really serious about this mission not getting out.” Tony goes quiet for a second as if lost in thought before he blinks back up to Peter. “All right, off the ceiling now. Can’t have you leaving footprints on a place we’re only renting.”

Peter conspicuously does not get off the ceiling as he walks toward his bedroom. “That wasn’t in the leasing contract I saw!”

“I think it was at least implied!” Tony calls after him.

“See you in the morning!” says Peter before he shuts the door and flips back onto the floor. His altered suit is laid out on his bed. It functions the same as before, but new color swatches have been sewn in to make its texture, hue, and pattern look different.

The night air is much cooler than the blazing heat of day. Peter’s not sure what to expect at first, but soon he finds that people either ignore him or smile as he walks by. Someone shouts from across the street, “Cool costume, man!” He gives them a thumbs-up.

Peter comes across a few bike thieves; he stops them by swiping their tools, running until he’s lost them, and then tossing their tools into the nearest dumpster. He probably looks like a maniac, but he doesn’t care. Someone has to stop the poor bicycles of Austin from being mutilated.

He finds a mugger just after one AM. It’s a man in a ski mask with a knife jumping another guy. Peter tries to creep into the alleyway.

The person he’s trying to help does not get the memo. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

The mugger, who hasn’t yet noticed Peter, looks offended. “I’m robbing you, man. Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, I was talking to the Spider-Man wannabe over there. What the fuck is he doing.”

The mugger does a double-take. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“I know right?”

It’s Peter’s turn to look offended. “I’m trying to help!” And then he thinks, _Fuck it_ , and takes a running tackle of the mugger to the ground.

They wrestle for a while, but it ends with Peter, unstabbed, victoriously wrenching the knife from the mugger’s hand and sitting across his torso and arms, using his strength to pin him to the ground.

The mugger struggles for a while before giving up. “Jesus, how much do you weigh?”

“Hey, rude,” says Peter. Seriously now. He turns toward the gawking muggee-to-be. “You okay with getting home safe? Got anyone you can call for a ride?”

“My apartment’s literally a block from here. I’ll be fine. Probably.” The man stares at Peter for a few more seconds. “Are you just going to sit on him?”

“Yup.”

“Call the cops?”

“Nah, I don’t usually do that. I promise you I won’t be giving the knife back to him, though.”

The guy tilts his head and shrugs. “I mean I guess I can’t complain when you saved me and my wallet.” He starts walking out of the alleyway. As he leaves, he calls, “Keep Austin weird!”

Peter sits on the mugger in silence for about ten minutes before getting up.

“So…you’re really not going to call the cops?”

“Nope. Just, don’t do this again, okay? Things might suck. But that doesn’t mean you have to make things suck for other people too.”

“I don’t have enough money for rent and food.”

Peter digs around in his suit’s pockets. “I’m sorry, this twenty dollar bill is the only thing I have on me.” He makes a mental note to look for any helpful programs they might have in the area later. He usually knows a few around Queens.

He bids the man goodbye, drops the knife off in a trash can three street corners away, and starts to head home. He makes it back just before two in the morning.

The lights in the apartment are on. When he gets up there, he finds Tony on the couch drinking coffee and watching TV.

“What the fuck, Dad,” he says as he plops down next to Tony.

“Why are you taking that tone with me, young man?” A corner of Tony’s mouth quirks upward, giving him away.

“You’re drinking coffee past midnight! That can’t be healthy.”

“I once caught you chugging Red Bull around this same time.”

“It was midterm season! Also, it’s different for me. You have your old man heart to think about.”

Tony scoffs, “I can’t have an old man heart. I am not old.”

“Lying to yourself isn’t healthy either.” Tony lightly cuffs the side of Peter’s head. “Hey!”

“Little shit,” says Tony. He’s smiling.

Peter smiles back and leans into Tony’s side. “You didn’t need to stay up. I was fine.”

“I know. Karen told me you sat on a mugger.”

“What else am I supposed to do if I’m trying not to use my webs?”

“Hey, it’s not a criticism. Just found it funny, is all.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

Neither of them makes any move to go to their respective bedroom. Tony mutes the TV as Peter’s eyes get heavier.

Just as he’s about to fall asleep, Peter hears Tony ask, “Do you remember your override codes to the Iron Man suits?”

Peter blinks, confused and tired. “Yeah? That’s not something I’m just gonna forget.”

Tony nods. “Good.”

“You ask weird questions, Dad.”

“I know. Go to sleep.”

Peter does. He wonders later if he just imagines Tony kissing his hair. 

* * *

**Thu, Jul 19,** 1:12 AM  
  
**Tony:** is he okay?  
  
**Karen:** Yes, Peter’s fine. Still sitting on the mugger. No change since you asked me a minute ago.  
**Karen:** You do know that I would notify you automatically if he got hurt, right, person who coded that exact protocol into me?  
  
**Tony:** please don’t sass me, Karen. I get enough of that from Peter.  
  
**Karen:** If you don’t want to be sassed, you shouldn’t be so sassable.  
**Karen:** Don’t worry. I’ve got him. And since you made me, you’ve got him too.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter having Spider-Man adventures in a new city is influenced by [the tallest man, the broadest shoulders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161303). 
> 
> I hadn’t known that “Keep Austin Weird” has its own [Wikipedia page](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keep_Austin_Weird) until I went looking for some sort of explainer for the phrase just now lmao  
> apparently it’s become commercialized which makes me sad
> 
> I’m going to try to get out chapter 4 today too since both c3 and c4 have short text messaging sections. Have to go make dinner first.


	4. ascends large and calm the lord-star jupiter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirty minutes past midnight still counts as “today,” right? 
> 
> Any resemblance between the non-Marvel characters and real persons is purely coincidental.

Peter wakes up giddy on Monday morning. He rushes through his morning routine and bounces into the kitchen area for breakfast.

Tony smiles as he hands him a plate topped with fruit and a PBJ sandwich. “Don’t go wolfing this down, now. Wouldn’t want you to choke right before the first day of your summer program.”

Peter, who’s already stuffed half a sandwich in his mouth, says, “Eh, a little choking won’t stop me.”

Tony fixes Peter with a look. “You’re unbelievable. At least don’t talk while you’re chewing.”

Peter shoves the other half of the sandwich in his mouth and gives Tony a thumbs up.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the suit beneath your clothes?” Tony asks. “It’s really hot—”

“I refuse to look like a fool, Mr. Stark. I am _not_ walking outside in a hoodie and jeans in this weather to cover up the fact that I’m wearing a onesie that inexplicably has an A/C.”

“You better keep yourself hydrated.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Happy drives the entire summer entourage to the university to drop Peter off near the Engineering Education and Research Center off San Jacinto street. Happy, Rhodey, and Steve have to wear wigs in public (Natasha just cut and dyed her hair; Tony was deemed unrecognizable enough with just his facial hair shaved off), and Peter can’t help but stifle a laugh every time he looks at them. He hugs everyone before he leaves, bidding goodbye to his uncles and aunt to anyone in earshot.

The EER building rises in front of him, a behemoth of steel and glass. Peter follows the trail of students inside to the main atrium, marveling at the sleek white floors and spiral staircase to his right. He makes his way to the Mulva Auditorium on the first floor and takes a seat near the respectable middle rows.

Peter’s thirty minutes early, so the room’s not that full yet, but it’s getting there. Soon, a short-haired blonde sits down next to him.

“Hi, I’m Gwen Stacy,” she says.

“Peter. P—Collins,” Peter amends before he gets his name wrong on the first day of meeting new people. “Peter Collins. Nice to meet you.”

“Back atcha.” Gwen props a hand beneath her chin. “So, which concentration did you sign up for?”

“I’m in the chemical engineering one.”

She grins. “Really? So am I.”

“Hell yeah,” says Peter, going in for a high five that Gwen reciprocates.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then Gwen starts wringing her hands. “You nervous? Because I’m nervous. It’s my first time away from home for any extended period of time.”

“Oh, I’m actually commuting here,” says Peter, recalling his backstory. “I live about five minutes away by car.”

“Huh. That’s close enough to walk here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe twenty minutes? But I’m really sensitive to the heat, so I take a car if I can when it’s hot. Which sucks, but what can you do?”

“Dude, I can’t even imagine. I live up north, I’ve been here for three days, and the highs have all been in the hundreds. How do you people live like this? Especially with the heat sensitivity, Jesus.”

Peter would also like to know how people live like this. Instead of saying that, he shrugs. “That’s Texas weather for you. It’s not that bad. I just have to make sure I’m drinking cold water regularly if I’m out of the AC. My dad packed me, like, four giant thermoses this morning.”

“That’s good.”

“Where do you live exactly? You said up north?”

Gwen nods. “Yep, New York City, Manhattan area.”

Peter sits up straight. “Seriously? That’s so cool! I—uh,” he searches for something, “I have online friends there. And, uh, have you heard of Spider-Man? I’m a fan.”

“Yeah, of course! I think he’s pretty cool, too. You actually sound like you have a Queens accent, did you know?”

Peter’s winging it now. He doesn’t know if Natasha would be proud or disappointed. “My mom’s side of the family is from Queens, actually. ‘S part of why I’m a fan.” He makes a mental note to tell that to Tony later. Seems like something he should know about his fake wife.

“Oh cool! What do your parents do?”

“Uh, my dad’s an electrical engineer at Stark Industries’s Austin branch. My mom was a geneticist. She passed away a while ago.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, looking away. He never knows how to respond to condolences about his parents’ deaths. Whether he should acknowledge the pang of grief that comes, the frustration at the pity that’s directed at him and not the ones who died, or the desire to defend the family he’s known for most of his life. “I never really knew her,” he simply decides to say. Before the pause that follows can get too awkward, he asks, “What about your parents?”

“My dad’s retired from the NYPD, and my mom’s a scientist at a small renewable energy company, nowhere as huge as SI.”

“That’s cool! What does she do exactly?”

“Cheaper and more sustainable materials for photovoltaic energy sources! It’s what I’m interested in working on too.”

Peter smiles. “Oh my gosh, that’s so awesome!”

“Do you have any research interests?”

“Oh, definitely! think biomaterials are like, the most interesting, no shade to renewable energy. Right now I’m obsessed with making cheap synthetic spider silk. [We’re genetically engineering silkworms and goats to produce organic spider silk](https://www.cnn.com/2016/05/24/health/healing-powers-of-a-spiders-web/index.html), but that still [too expensive to compete on the textiles market](https://cen.acs.org/articles/95/i8/Delivering-spider-silks-promise.html), y’know?”

“A true Spidey fan, huh?” Gwen grins. “And as for spider silk in the textiles market, I in fact don’t know, but you can tell me more.”

“Only if you tell me more about sustainable photovoltaics!”

“Sure!”

Peter and Gwen chat until the room is full and a bespectacled lady takes the podium at the front.

She speaks on the customary topics—a welcome, an overview of the program, the itinerary for the day—until she arrives at the reason for Peter’s presence. “We know the news has been extensively covering the CO poisoning cases here in Austin, but we want to reassure you all that they have been rare and that none have yet happened on campus where most of you will be living. But just to be safe, please listen carefully to my next announcement. We will be offering free health services for every non-commuter student here for the duration of the program. Please seek immediate medical attention if you experience any of these symptoms: headaches, confusion, nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath…”

At this point, looking around at the hundred-or-so participants, Peter realizes that the vast majority of them are girls. He suspects the other few boys present are actual commuter students, holding with his hypothesis that there shouldn’t be many of those. Peter’s heard that the local high schools start on August twentieth, which is only four days right after the second session of this program finishes. It’s so early. He shudders at the thought.

“…but enough of that! Let’s get started with the tours! We have seven student guides outside, one for each department in the Cockrell School of Engineering. These guides will also be some of the grad students who’ll be leading some of the workshops and/or who you’ll be shadowing later in the program. They’ll be holding signs so you know who to go to.”

Peter and Gwen end up with a cheerful man named James, who introduces himself as working on nanomaterials in medicine, and about fifteen other people.

“So we’ll be looking around the Chemical and Petroleum Engineering Building, which houses the McKetta Department of Chemical Engineering. It’s where you’ll spend most of your time at. We’ll then go to one of the dining halls for lunch, and after that we’ll walk around the campus and I’ll give you a miniature campus tour. Sound good?”

They all nod.

“Then let’s go!”

Peter takes a million selfies with Gwen in front of the [Clock Knot](https://landmarks.utexas.edu/artwork/clock-knot) sculpture, enjoys walking around the building and looking at all the rooms. He gets into a debate with Gwen on whether Spider-Man’s webbing comes out of him(self) and sort of wants to die the entire time. It gets worse when another person chimes in that they agree with Gwen, and the whole group ends up taking a poll. Only one other person agrees with Peter that his webs do not come out of himself. Thanks, Zachary.

When they start the outside portion of the tour, Peter sets his watch to buzz every two minutes to remind himself to drink water. Ever since he was bitten by the spider, his brain doesn’t send the signal to his body to thermoregulate until it’s too late. He barely sweats, doesn’t flush from the heat, and generally can’t tell when he’s getting too hot or too cold until he’s about to pass out. The first winter and summer after the field trip to Oscorp were risky ones. Once he really met Tony though, they figured out how to manage his issues in a controlled environment with Dr. Cho.

Maybe they should have done another set of experiments before this trip. After all, Austin is ten degrees hotter than New York City in the summers, and today’s forecasted high was in the hundreds like the past few days. Peter starts feeling dizzy about thirty minutes in.

“Hey, Peter, are you okay?” asks Gwen, crease in her brows. She’s fanning herself and sweating buckets. “You don’t seem to be sweating a lot. And you’re really pale. Also, we’re moving on, stop staring at that tree.”

Peter blinks at Gwen. “Not sweating a lot is normal.”

James overhears them and motions for them to go sit in some nearby shade. “You’re really not sweating enough for all the water you’ve drunk. Should we get medical attention?”

Peter feels horrible that he’s derailed the group. “It’s normal for me to not sweat too much, like I said. We did send in something about my thermoregulation issues, right?”

“Yeah, we got that,” says James. “But I didn’t know it was so severe.”

“I’ll be fine if I keep drinking water,” mumbles Peter. “Was probably just not doing that enough. It’s been a while since I’ve been directly exposed to the summer sun this long. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

James looks at him skeptically. “You sure you don’t want to go back to the EER and sit this out? You won’t be missing anything important. We’re just walking around.”

“No, no,” says Peter, absolutely mortified. “Don’t take a detour just because of this.”

James squints. “You don’t sound confused or anything, so that’s good. And you have been drinking water the entire time. Very well. We’ll take a break in the shade for a while longer, and then we’ll move on.”

Five minutes after they start walking again, Peter starts feeling the heat crawl up his face.

“Oh no,” he says, swaying.

“Peter?” says Gwen. “Oh wow, your face just got really red in the past few minutes—Peter—!”

He passes out. He swears he sees golden sparks at the edge of his vision right before it fades to black.

He wakes up on a cushioned seat with ice on his body. He hears Tony’s voice saying, “—coherent up until a point, after which he just takes a swan dive.”

“Noted,” says James. “And again, I’m so sorry, Mr. Collins, I really should have taken us inside when Gwen first saw that there was something wrong with Peter.”

“You couldn’t have known that he’s like that. And I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

“Hrrghh,” says Peter as he props himself on his side. He’s in a large room, light streaming in through rectangular windows on his left. James, Tony, Gwen, and presumably a nurse are standing near where he rests. The rest of his tour group is scattered around the room, whispering amongst themselves.

“Oh, look who’s awake, Mr. ‘don’t-stop-the-tour-just-because-I’m-about-to-pass-out.’”

“You’re bullying me. You’re bullying an injured child,” says Peter.

Tony rolls his eyes but still crouches down and starts fussing over Peter, grabbing one of the ice packs that was on the side of Peter’s neck and holding it up to Peter’s head. Peter swats at Tony’s hand and grabs the ice pack himself.

“Can I talk to Peter alone for a second?” asks Tony, turning toward the other adults.

“As long as you keep the ice on him,” says the nurse.

Tony nods, and James claps his hands and leads everyone out of the room.

“So,” begins Tony, “what did I say about hydration this morning?”

“I followed normal hydration procedures! The sun here is just. A demon,” says Peter. “A monster, a fiend, a devil—”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.”

“Ugh.” Peter flops back down onto his seat. “I really did think I was fine,” he mumbles.

“I know,” says Tony, sincere. Whispering, he adds, “You’re a lot better at asking for help now than when I first met you. But let’s hold off for now on going outside for extended periods of time while the sun is baking the earth, okay? At least when you’re not in the suit.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Glad we’re on the same wavelength.” Tony looks away. “I was really worried when the your name popped up on the alert system,” he says as he taps his watch.

Peter sits up straight, ice falling from his hands. Tony catches it and hands it back. “Oh heck, I completely forgot about the alerts.”

“You’re lucky Dr. Strange and Wong remembered that you’re at your program and thought to scout out the situation before teleporting half of SHIELD to your location. And that they sent the all-clear before any other sorcerers could show up.”

“Nobody saw them, then?”

“Nah. Just a squirrel, they said.”

“That’s good.” Peter pouts. “Man, this is so embarrassing. I can’t believe everyone knows that I fought the sun and lost now.” He raises his head to look at Tony. “You should take me to go get ice cream to make up for this blow to my dignity.”

Tony snorts. “You know who I should take out for ice cream? Gwen, since she had to go through the injustice of knowing that something’s wrong, saying so, and then witnessing it anyway because _someone_ thought he was fine. Also, she helped carry your unconscious butt over here.”

“Didn’t you agree to stop bullying me, the injured child?”

“I remember agreeing to no such thing.”

“I don’t think we can take Gwen out for ice cream anyway. Pretty sure it’d be against the rules to let any of the non-commuter students go off campus without supervision. Besides, it’s weird.”

Tony makes an offended noise. “It’s not weird. It’s thanking her for helping out. We can totally get permission. Watch me. I’ll invite James too, since he was the other person who helped carry you. Then Gwen’ll have supervision.” He ponders this for a moment and brightens as a thought comes to him. “We can have dinner together too!”

Peter’s feeling resigned. Leave it to Tony to get excited about spending money on people he’s just met, now that he’s not famous. “I guess you can try.”

“Be more excited! I’ve only talked to them a little, but I can tell that they’re both smart young people. Gwen would make a great friend who’s around your age! Not that Michelle and Ned are bad.”

“I can make friends with her during the program. I _was_ making friends with her during the program before I fainted.”

“Agree to let me ask if they want ice cream or else you’re not getting any.”

“You’re so weird,” says Peter. “Fine, go be a weirdo.”

Happy drives them back to the apartment not long after. “I’m never going ever outside again,” Peter declares as he lays himself facedown on the cool wooden flooring.

Tony nudges him with his foot. “Please get off the floor.”

Peter throws up a peace sign. “No.”

“And you call _me_ a weirdo.”

On Thursday, Peter finds out that Tony somehow did get permission to treat Gwen and James to ice cream and dinner. Peter stops pretending to be disinterested in Tony’s antics because he’s happy to spend more time with Gwen and James to talk shop and life. They go out for ice cream at a place just outside of campus and then head to the apartment for dinner. He adds Gwen to a group chat with MJ and Ned, laughs at Tony’s attempts to recruit Gwen and James for Stark Industries, and still tries not to lose it every time he looks at Happy, Rhodey, or Steve with their wigs on even though he’s ostensibly gotten used to it.

For the first two weeks, he has fun at the program. He grows familiar with the city as Spider-Man, and although he misses Queens, he enjoys Austin, its people, the bats that fly out from under Congress Avenue bridge at sunset. He gets used to hugging Tony and everyone else every time he’s dropped off at the university. He smiles whenever he calls May to tell her about his day.

But the thing is still out there. And as the weeks pass, the number of victims slowly rises one by one. Peter watches Tony check the news with a crease in his brow, and he becomes antsy himself every time he surfs the internet. SHIELD sends someone in to check on them every Saturday, but nobody has news for each other. The summer program is not untouched; Peter hears the gossip, the whispered, “My parents want me to go back home,” every time a new case occurs.

He doesn’t pretend he can forget why he’s here. He follows the news, knows where most of the cases have been concentrated. Keeps an eye out as Spider-Man.

Watches. And waits.

* * *

**Tue, Jul 31,** 12:03 PM  
  
**Peter:** i CANNOT believe  
**Peter:** the INDIGNITY of it all  
  
**Happy:** kid, what is it now?  
  
**Peter:** ill tell you what it is happy its a TRAVESTY  
**Peter:** do you know what theyre calling me? do you???  
  
**Happy:** no.  
  
**Peter:** LOOK at this: [https://www.texastribune.org/2018/07/24/austin-spider-man-imitation/](https://www.wayfair.com/888-Cool-Fans--52-5-Blade-Flush-Mount-Ceiling-Fan-with-Pull-Chain-and-Light-Kit-Included-F520001106-L230-K~HGIE1547.html)  
**Peter:** it says people on social media are calling me the SPIDERFAN  
  
**Happy:** seems okay to me.  
  
**Peter:** *gasp* i cant believe you have done this to me  
**Peter:** its NOT okay  
**Peter:** its GIMMICKY  
**Peter:** it DOESNT HAVE THE HYPHEN!!!!  
  
**Happy:** it’s no less gimmicky than ‘spider-man’ is.  
**Happy:** also the hyphen’s kind of dumb.  
  
**Peter:** i  
**Peter:** i dont think i can take this kind of betrayal  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally, I had the program starting on the sixteenth of July and lasting five weeks, but then I found out that the hottest day in Austin in 2018 was on the twenty-third with temperatures reaching 109–110°F in the afternoon. And then, like, I had to, okay. It can be a shorter program lol. 
> 
> In case that Wayfair link (the link in Peter’s text to Happy) ever dies/404’s, I have screenshotted the goods and posted it to [Imgur](https://imgur.com/a/praxqyZ). The puns must make it to posterity. 
> 
> in this house we stan happy hogan,,,he’s right,,,,the hyphen is dumb,,,,,,
> 
> (don’t ask me why the text message formatting in this chapter has shifted to the right, i don’t know and it makes me want to cry) 
> 
> anyway the fun part’s over! time for drama.


	5. and nigh at hand swim the delicate sisters the pleiades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild violence in this chapter.

The night of the third Monday in Austin is hot and muggy even after sundown. It’s in the eighties so it’s not unbearable, but Peter’s still glad his suit has an A/C. He helps someone with their late night grocery run before he wanders northward past the university campus and into the area where the spirit has been most active. Tony hasn’t forbidden him from doing so, likely realizing the futility of trying.

The residential areas he finds himself in are emptier than the other streets he’s been on, but people are still shuffling around in the orange glow of the streetlight. Peter can clearly hear the sounds of the traffic in the distance, the chatter of people in their homes.

It is the last fact that yields results.

Far away, a door creaks open.

Somebody says, _“Dad, I thought I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Just let me do my summer reading in peace.”_

Peter barely notes these things; they are like ripples in the sea of city sounds. But the voice that responds sends chills down Peter’s spine, snaps his attention to the inconspicuous apartment building on the other side of the street. _“It’s a good thing I’m not your father then,”_ it says, layered like an overlapping recording, harmonic but just slightly off key.

A chair scrapes a floor, quick footsteps shuffling like they are backing up. _“Oh my god, what the fuck? What are you and what did you do to him?”_

_“Don’t pretend you care about him when you’ve shown such disrespect.”_

Scrambling. Something crashes to the floor.

Peter’s heard enough.

He cuts across the street and runs to the apartment building, ignoring the looks that are sent his way. The door to the fire escape is locked, so he breaks it in. Someone yells at him.

The metal stairs groan with every step. When he reaches the floor that’s level with the voices, Peter shoves the door to the hallways open and winces when its hinges crack from the force. But there’s no time to contemplate the property damage. The clatter of conflict draws him deeper into the building, dull light on dull walls. Peter breaks yet another door down as he enters the apartment of interest and triggers the alarm on his watch shortly afterward.

He doesn’t wait to see if the alarm brings any reinforcements. He rushes toward the room where he can still hear the yelling and the fighting.

He doesn’t process any words; he’s on pure adrenaline, blood pounding in his ears as he throws the door open.

Black eyes startle him. A man twists the forearm of a boy who looks a little under Peter’s age. The kid has tears in his eyes, and his arm is obviously broken.

Peter doesn’t hesitate and webs the man to the wall.

As he stumbles over an overturned room toward the teen, the man—the _possessed_ man—starts spitting invectives. Peter tries to pay him no attention.

Voice shaking, the boy says as Peter sets his arm, “What—Spider-Man—?”

The kid is clearly in shock, Peter thinks distantly.

“Spider-Man,” echoes a voice from the doorway. “What happened here?”

Dr. Strange stands at the threshold surveying the scene. Peter notices his surroundings for the first time as well. The room looks like a study: there’s a large desk with its contents scattered, shelves with their books knocked to the floor, and a fancy vase broken on the ground. Peter looks at the webbed man and realizes that the spirit has relinquished control by now. The man is pale and trembling, eyes wide and face taut.

“It—it was here,” says Peter, setting his webshooters to the dissolvent. “The thing. I—we saw it. It tried to—the kid, he needs medical treatment.” Peter stands on shaky legs. “I’m going to dissolve the webs now.”

Dr. Strange nods. “We need to transport both of them to the Midwest Sanctum. Let’s go, kid,” he says, addressing the civilian. “We’ll get you to one of our doctors.”

The teen looks uncertainly at his father, who vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, he’s not going with you people.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do. But do you really expect me to let my son go near anything supernatural after what just happened? Do you think I’m crazy?” He laughs almost hysterically. “Oh god, maybe I am. What just happened?”

Dr. Strange comes to sit in front of the man, mouth set in a thin line. “The Order of the Mystic Arts is in no way affiliated with the thing that attacked you just now.” The next part of his speech sounds rehearsed. “We, along with SHIELD, are here in Austin investigating the so-called carbon monoxide poisoning cases. You were a victim of mind control. None of this was your fault. We’re going to take the both of you to our Midwest Sanctum so we can look after you for the duration of the investigation—our wards can protect you there. You will be compensated for your time.”

The man looks at Dr. Strange incredulously. “ _This_ is what the carbon monoxide cases are hiding? Parents forced into hurting their children? People deserve to know.”

“It would cause panic.”

“It should cause panic!”

Dr. Strange looks at Peter. A cue for backup if he ever saw one.

But Peter hesitates. “Maybe people should know.”

“Spider-Man—”

“See? Even he agrees.” The man nods his head at Peter. “People should know.”

“I’m sorry, but this is a federal investigation. You are required to cooperate.”

“I—”

Noises from outside the room. All four of them turn their heads. _“Hey! This is a restricted area.”_

_“This is our friend’s home! Where are Kelvin and his son?”_

_“I’m sorry, ma’am and sirs, but—hey!”_

A woman comes into the room. “Oh my god, Kelvin? Ryan? What on earth happened? We could hear yelling and fighting, but—why are you stuck to the wall?”

“Spider-Man saved me,” says the kid, Ryan.

The woman pales. “Saved you? From—I thought, I never thought Kelvin would—”

“No!” says Ryan. “That’s not it. He was possessed. By a—a spirit or ghost or something. And the—the Sorcerer Supreme,” he points at Dr. Strange, “is saying that this is the real cause behind all the carbon monoxide cases.”

The woman furrows her brows. “What?”

Someone, probably a SHIELD operative, interrupts the conversation with a knock on the doorframe. “We have a problem.”

“I can see that,” says Dr. Strange, teeth gritted.

“Not just her, it—it looks like the entire floor and then some have gathered outside the apartment. I’m pretty sure someone has called the police. And the local news station.”

Dr. Strange pinches his nose. “Spider-Man, how long will the webbing take to dissolve?”

Peter jumps a little at being addressed. “It takes about ten minutes until you can move. So maybe…five or six more minutes?”

Dr. Strange looks at the SHIELD agent, who frowns. “Might not be enough time. The person who called the police and the news did so some time ago, I think. Apparently when he saw Spider-Man entering the apartment complex.”

“Oh, that’s just fantastic.” Dr. Strange sighs, then turns back to Peter. “Don’t worry about it, Spider-Man. We’ll take care of this. You don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s probably better that you’re not here when more people start to show up. We don’t need to give them more material than we already are.”

“If you say so.” Peter starts to head toward the window behind the desk.

“Just one thing before you go,” says Dr. Strange. Peter pauses and looks at him. “Be mad at us, be mad at SHIELD, but don’t be mad at Tony for keeping this from you, okay? He didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m not. Mad, that is.” Peter doesn’t think he’s feeling much of anything.

Dr. Strange looks at him dubiously. Peter just shakes his head.

“Hey, Spidey,” says Ryan, catching Peter’s attention before he makes his exit via the window. “Thanks for tonight. You saved my life and you saved my dad.”

“Of course,” Peter says sincerely. He can’t muster up anything else, though, and leaves shortly after.

He takes the long way back to the apartment, trying to sort through all his jumbled thoughts. He’s not angry. He’s not. He’s just tired.

Karen keeps him updated on internal SHIELD communications and the news. The secret is out; it takes one rogue journalist and a recording from a security camera. Peter avoids the crowds, shies away from anyone who tries to approach him.

He finds Tony watching the news. Tony doesn’t look toward him when he enters.

“You knew,” says Peter. He doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding like an accusation.

Tony takes a deep breath in before he turns toward Peter. “I did. I wanted to tell you, but—“

“I’m sure SHIELD put in place plenty of restrictions.”

“Peter—“

“I’m not mad about it. I’m really not. I understand why SHIELD would want to do this, even if I don’t agree. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to withdraw from the mission because of this.”

Tony’s expression tightens. “Maybe I should have.”

It’s like a slap in the face. Peter blinks, and his first real emotion of the night is disgust. “You can’t mean that. If we weren’t here, that kid would be dead, and it would be our fault.”

“Peter…everyone knows now. And that thing is still out there. It’s not safe.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “It wasn’t safe before.”

“It’s even less so now!”

“So what?”

“How can you be so cavalier about your own life? You almost sound like you _want_ to put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t, but it’s what we need to do.” Peter crosses his arms. He’s feeling petty. “And you know what? Maybe people deserve to know what’s been happening.”

Tony blinks, and then his face turns thunderous. “Excuse me? You knowing is one thing; the public is another. Don’t you remember what happened last time there was something like this?”

“I do. And I’ll ask again: so what?” Peter shakes his head and turns away before Tony can respond. “I’m not having this conversation right now. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“Peter—”

Peter leaves Tony there, the television buzzing with the news, the specter of last winter hanging over their heads. 

* * *

**Mon, Aug 6,** 11:39 PM  
  
**May:** Did you know?   
  
**Tony:** yes.   
**Tony:** they told us the day we left.   
  
**May:** And you’re staying?   
  
**Tony:** I don’t know, May.   
  
**May:** What’s Peter’s opinion on leaving?   
  
**Tony:** he doesn’t like the thought, predictably.   
  
**May:** Yeah, I’m not sure why I even asked   
  
**Tony:** he also said that maybe the public deserves to know.  
**Tony:** it was almost like he wanted everything to get out.  
  
**May:** Jesus  
  
**Tony:** not going to lie, that one threw me.  
**Tony:** do you want me to bring him back early?  
  
**May:** Of course I do, but I’m not going to tell you that you have to  
**May:** I’m trusting you to read this situation and decide if the risks are worth the objective  
**May:** Just, whatever you do, whenever you return, come home safe and sound  
**May:** The both of you, Tony  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 might take until Friday to come out.


	6. from the beach the child holding the hand of his father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced child death is heavier than usual in this chapter.

“You’re in a mood,” says Gwen at lunch. “You usually eat way more than this. You were like this yesterday too, so what gives?”

“My dad and I are…having a mild dispute,” says Peter. “So things have been strained. But we’re not talking about it.”

“That sounds uncomfortable. Have you considered talking about it?”

“You sound like Ned.”

Gwen nods. “Ned is wise.”

“I regret adding you to the group chat.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it first? Or Ned or MJ? It might help.”

“It’s…” Peter rubs his face. “I thought we understood each other, you know? About…so many things, but especially about what’s the right thing to do. I mean, we already had a disagreement last winter, but I thought we hashed that out. Or, well, I thought we at least moved past it. But now he’s saying the same things.”

“This doesn’t sound like a mild dispute.”

“It…I don’t know. I don’t feel angry exactly, just hurt. And worried.”

“About your dad?”

“Yeah. It’s not as if I can’t see this is weighing on him. But we’re drawing the line in different places, and I just…can’t.”

“Well, I can’t give you any specific advice since I don’t know the details, but it does really sound like you need to at least talk to him.”

Peter buries his face in his hands. “I hate talking. I know he does too.”

“Oh, that’s a mood.” Gwen shoves a forkful of pasta in her mouth and looks pensive. “You know, the two times I’ve met him, I’ve gotten the impression he really cares about you. Like, he was freaking out that time you fainted.”

“Please don’t remind me of my past mistakes.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “The point is, I think you’ll both make it through whatever this mild dispute is, just because you do care about each other.”

_Tony’s only acting._ Peter pushes the thought away. “Thanks, Gwen,” he says instead.

They fall into silent eating after that. Peter listens in on the other conversations in the dining hall, mostly about the recent news. He and Gwen had already gone over it yesterday.

One person in particular catches his attention, from across the far side of the room. _“You know, I understand the feeling behind the demonstrations. SHIELD is more trouble than it’s worth.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Nobody used to have these sorts of problems before SHIELD existed and all these enhanced people started popping up. It’s their fault that any of this is happening, really.”_

_“Man, I don’t know about that.”_

_“It makes perfect sense to me.”_

Peter knows their reasoning is flawed, knows that most people wouldn’t agree, but something twists in his gut uneasily. Anti-enhanced bigotry can get nasty. He knows Tony is right to worry about it.

But it doesn’t mean they can run away.

Why can’t Tony understand?

“Peter?” comes Gwen’s voice.

“Hm?”

“Your watch is buzzing. Is that important?”

Peter blinks. It’s true. His watch has been vibrating for the past few seconds. He taps it and sees the words _ALERT—AGENT MACAULAY—VITAL SIGNS INDICATE ACUTE DISTRESS_ followed by an address. Underneath that, _YOU ARE 0.67 MILES AWAY_ blinks up at him.

“Shit.” Peter rises abruptly from his seat. “I have to leave.”

“What? What is it?”

“No time to explain, sorry!”

“Peter!”

Peter grabs his backpack and rushes out of the dining hall, dodging the adult supervisors with practiced ease. It’s cloudy due to an incoming thunderstorm, thank the heavens, so he doesn’t suffer too much until he’s able to change into the suit a few blocks away.

Peter slings full speed the entire way. People know who he is by now anyway. He ignores the hellos and the cheers the same as the boos and the name-calling. Focuses instead on Karen’s calm voice issuing directions. He makes it in under two minutes.

No crowd at the apartment complex. It’s one of their own, after all. No longtime neighbors to have befriended. Peter makes sure to enter the building discreetly from an alleyway.

He doesn’t reach the room of the scene: there’s a short line of SHIELD operatives and Kamar-Taj sorcerers blocking the doorway to the apartment. All he can hear is the heartwrenching sobbing from somewhere deep inside.

“We were too late, Spider-Man,” someone whispers to him. “It—we think it can disable the watches somehow if it touches them.”

“Spidey?” comes a familiar voice—and it’s Tony from around the corner of the hall, pale, eyes shining. “Oh god, what are you doing here?”

“I—I got the alert. What about you?”

“I was speaking with Dr. Strange when it came through.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “We should go. There’s nothing we can do here.”

Peter swallows, looks toward the people guarding Agent Macauley’s privacy as he grieves, and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Tony calls Happy, who first drives them to where Peter left his backpack behind a dumpster and then to the apartment. They sit in silence for the entire ride.

At the apartment, it is no better. They barely talk. Peter suspects that neither knows what to say without potentially triggering a full-blown argument. He feels like they’re walking on a tightrope that’s about to snap.

And then it does. It’s nine in the evening; Peter is mindlessly scrolling through social media on the couch when he hears Tony say, “What the hell?”

Peter looks over at where Tony’s seated at the kitchen table. “What is it?”

“Email just came through from SHIELD updating everyone on what happened. At the very end of it, they tell us to ‘wait for further instructions on how to proceed.’ So they want us to stay here like sitting ducks for the days or weeks it’ll take for them to get their act together?” He laughs. “For fuck’s sake, the stupid watches don’t even work.”

“Do we have any better options?”

Tony looks at him. “We could go home.”

Peter stands up. “A kid just died, and you want to go home?”

Tony throws his hands up. “Finally! You get it! A kid just died. I want to go home.”

“You want to run away!”

“I want to keep us safe.”

The words grate on Peter’s ears. “You’ve already tried the safety argument, and it was stupid then and it’s stupid now. Of course it’s not safe! If it was, we wouldn’t be here. But it’s not. So we are.”

“We don’t have to be. There are plenty of other volunteers—”

“If everybody thought that way, there would be no one. And every single group of volunteers makes it more likely we’ll catch the thing sooner rather than later.” Peter laughs. “Who do you even want to keep safe? You know I’m stronger than you, suit or no suit.” Whether Peter would be willing to hurt Tony is a different matter, but he doesn’t have to say that.

“You’re not invincible, Peter. I don’t know how I’d handle it if…” Tony’s face contorts into an indiscernible expression before smoothing out again. “In any case, that’s not the only danger to consider. Everybody knows now, and people are already starting to panic.”

“So? You obviously have some unresolved baggage about last winter. But I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of it. Sure, I got hurt, but I was fine in the end.”

“You’re a child, Peter! You shouldn’t have to get hurt!”

Peter crosses his arms. “Too bad the world doesn’t care about what should happen. It only has us and the choices we make. If I can throw myself between danger and another person, then I will.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Why the hell do you even get to have a say?” snaps Peter. “You’re not my real dad, you know. You just randomly decided to insert yourself into my life one day. There’s no reason for you to care.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, the way they leave a frost over his tongue, the way they make Tony distant.

“You’re right.” Tony laughs. It’s sour and bitter like an old lemon, and Peter never wants to hear it again. “I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up when the thing won’t even come after us. Don’t know what SHIELD was thinking, asking for us. You’re not my kid.”

“Glad we’re in agreement,” says Peter, voice monotone. He turns his back toward Tony. “I’m going out for a walk.”

“There’s a thunderstorm rolling in.”

“Yeah? And? I’ll be fine. Don’t wait for me to come back before going to sleep.” 

There’s not another word as Peter exits, from himself or from Tony.

Peter thinks he hears muffled crying as he makes it to the bottom of the stairwell. He runs away from the apartment complex until the sound fades. He doesn’t need that when he’s too confused about what happened, why he’s feeling sad and angry and betrayed, at Tony and at himself.

He wanders aimlessly for forty-five minutes in the drizzle before finding a place to sit, on a fire escape, legs dangling over the edge. He doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, so he scrolls through his phone, looking at his messages he’d left unopened since this morning, too sick to the stomach to contemplate anything close to real conversation.

**Wed, Aug 8,** 12:22 PM  
  
Gwen  
**Gwen:** Peter? you left really quickly  
**Gwen:** all the adults are pretty mad   
**Gwen:** and i couldnt tell them anything to make it any better   
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 2:01 PM  
  
Ned  
**Ned:** what happened???????  
  
Gwen  
**Gwen:** Peter ran out really quickly, his watch buzzed or something   
  
Ned  
**Ned:** ?????????????   
  
MJ  
**MJ:** peter wtf  
  
Gwen  
**Gwen:** yeah he didnt tell me what it was for   
**Gwen:** Im worried  
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 3:14 PM  
  
Ned  
**Ned:** so i’ve texted his dad but the only thing he told me is that peter is alive?  
**Ned:** he also went ‘don’t worry’ but like. HOW do i not worry in the face of the vaguest reassurance ever??  
**Ned:** bro are you okay????  
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 4:45 PM  
  
Gwen  
**Gwen:** Peter?  


In his private messages from Ned:

**Wed, Aug 8,** 2:58 PM  
  
**Ned:** yo peter what happened dude   
**Ned:** you know what, i’m texting mr. stark  
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 3:23 PM  
  
**Ned:** well at least we know you’re not dead  
**Ned:** peeteeerrrrrr  


And from MJ:

**Wed, Aug 8,** 5:06 PM  
  
**MJ:** nerd, answer the groupchat   


Peter shoots off a quick message to them all.

**Wed, Aug 8,** 9:59 PM  
  
**Peter:** guys im fine. out for a walk. will get back to you soon  


His phone starts dinging with new messages from the group chat; he ignores it and moves on to the next set of unanswered messages, all from Happy.

**Wed, Aug 8,** 9:32 PM  
  
**Happy:** kid, where are you?   
**Happy:** tony’s upset.  
**Happy:** what happened? we can’t get a straight answer out of tony. and now he’s shut us out.  
**Happy:** steve just got back from grocery shopping, so we didn’t have super-hearing at our disposal until now.   
**Happy:** thunderstorms mess with you two’s listening abilities anyway.   
**Happy:** we’re all worried.  
**Happy:** seriously, what happened?  
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 10:01 PM  
  
**Peter:** can we not talk about tony?   
  
**Happy:** sure. what do you want to talk about?   
  
**Peter:** i dunno. i just dont want to think about anything related to the mission   
  
**Happy:** why don’t you finish the story about the stray chicken you were looking for on sunday?   


Peter complies; in ten minutes he’s feeling far more clear-headed. Regret sits heavy in his gut. He pockets his phone and watches lightning flash in the distance through the steadily increasing pitter-patter of the rain.

When a buzz announcing a message from Tony pops up, he opens it.

**Wed, Aug 8,** 10:28 PM  
  
**Tony:** I’m sorry for what I said. please come back and talk?   
  
**Peter:** okay  


He walks straight back to the apartment complex, hugging himself against the rain. It takes a little over half an hour. Someone calls him while he walks; he’s too drained to answer. He’s tired as all hell when he arrives, but he’s tired of this stalemate with Tony too. Even if Tony doesn’t think of him as his kid, Peter still wants him in his life as his mentor, as his friend. So he’ll talk.

“Mr. Stark? I’m back,” he says as he enters. “I’m here to say I’m sorry too.” Peter keeps his eyes down and shuffles a little bit more into the living room. “I—I didn’t mean a lot of what I said. And the stuff I did mean, I said too harshly. I never wanted to hurt you. And I don’t think you wanted to hurt me either.”

He waits for a reply. There is none.

Suddenly, Peter realizes that his spider sense has been ringing ever since he stepped into the room. He’d been too caught up in his apology to notice. His head shoots up. His hands go to his wrists, but he’s not wearing his webshooters. He’d dropped the habit when he got to this city.

His spider sense staccatos, pinging at a peak. It’s bad. It’s bad. “FRIDAY! Initiate the Peter Parker Override Protocol, code: SP1962.”

No response.

Peter scrambles to activate an emergency signal from his watch, but he’s too late. An armored hand closes tightly around his wrist. Peter suppresses a noise of pain, looks up and sees black eyes.

“Oh, Peter Parker,” says a voice that is Tony’s and not Tony’s. “How nice to meet you again. Your father cares very much about you, you know.” 

* * *

**Wed, Aug 8,** 10:40 PM  
  
**Gwen:** hey you never told the groupchat you went home and me and ned and mj are worried now  
**Gwen:** especially since it’s starting to rain hard  
**Gwen:** and apparently your dad isn’t answering ned anymore??   
**Gwen:** Peter?   
**Gwen:** Peter answer me   
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 10:44 PM  
  
**Gwen:** you didn’t pick up the call  
**Gwen:** that’s it, I’m running to your apartment   
**Gwen:** I know i’m breaking a million rules   
**Gwen:** and that there’s a thunderstorm outside  
**Gwen:** but please be safe   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there probably was not a thunderstorm in austin on august 8, but [the site i use to get my weather data](https://www.timeanddate.com/weather/usa/austin/historic?month=8&year=2018) says there isn’t any data available for 6:00 PM–12:00 AM on that day so who can say for sure???? ([this article](https://www.statesman.com/news/20190104/drought-floods-made-2018-wild-year-in-weather-for-texas) says that austin was at the tail end of a drought in august and that the heavy raining started in september and october. to which i say: you can’t take away my creative license)


	7. those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened last winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next have the most violence.

“…the protests and counter-protests clogging up traffic in downtown New York City. Political analysts are unsure when tensions across the northeast US will die down; Dr. Anya Henderson, mutant and enhanced rights specialist at Harvard, says we can only hope it ends when or if SHIELD’s investigation into the spate of magical murders concludes successfully…”

_“You need to stop watching the news all the time,” says Peter. “It makes you seem old and crotchety.”_

_Tony doesn’t unfurrow his brows or roll his eyes when he looks at Peter, who seems to have materialized by his side. “I’m just worried,” he says._

_“You and May both. Even Ned has gotten to asking if I’m okay every day.” Peter plops down on his usual seat. “I’m fine, really. I can handle myself.”_

_“I know, but it pays to be cautious.”_

_“Yeah, yeah.”_

_There’s none of their usual banter as they settle down to work. Peter chatters on about his day, but Tony can only think of his worry and the request he wants to make of Peter._

_Somewhere during the two-hour point, Peter sighs. “Mr. Stark, you’re obviously distracted by something. Out with it.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“You. Distracted. What is it?”_

_“Peter…” Tony looks away. “I got another death threat against Spider-Man this morning.”_

_“Oh man, another one of those? Geez, do people have nothing better to do with their time?”_

_“It’s not safe for you to go out at night.”_

_Peter sets down his beaker of web formula. “This again?”_

_“Yes, this again. May and I want you to stop, just for the time being, until everything dies down.”_

_“Spider-Man isn’t just a costume I can take off. I_ have _to help the people who I can hear are in trouble. You should understand this better than anyone.”_

_“Peter, there’s a difference between helping people and recklessly endangering yourself.”_

_“It’s not reckless, Mr. Stark. It’s very much calculated. I’m risking my life for the people out there, and I’m fine with it.”_

_Tony doesn’t mean to raise his voice. “God, Peter, is it really such a bad thing to want you to be safe?”_

_“It is when you’re just letting other people get hurt instead! Especially when they can’t handle it like I can.”_

_“Have you ever considered that maybe you can’t handle this? That you shouldn’t push the limits on what you can do? It only takes one miscalculation to take you out.”_

_“Oh, so you don’t trust me.”_

_“That’s not what I said.”_

_“Sure sounds like it. You don’t think I can handle this.”_

_“No, I said you might not be able to. And that you should consider the possibility.”_

_“All right.” Peter tilts his head. “Possibility considered. I’m still okay with going out as Spider-Man.”_

_Tony slams a screwdriver onto the table. “Well, I’m not!”_

_Peter’s not cowed. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Take away my suit again?”_

_“Maybe I should.” Tony grimaces and immediately regrets his words, especially with the look that Peter shoots him._

_Peter shakes his head. “I thought we understood each other.” He gets out of his seat._

_“Where do you think you’re going, young man?”_

_“Home. Ned’s. Patrol. I don’t see why you should get to know.” Peter slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Bye. I’m gonna take the subway, wherever I go. Don’t bother asking Happy to drive me.”_

_“It’s too cold—”_

_“I’ll be fine,” Peter snaps. “I’m wearing the suit you want to take away beneath everything. Has a heater, remember?”_

_Peter leaves Tony to stew in his regret. He should have been more empathetic. He should have better explained his reasons. He should have at least considered Peter’s point of view, because, god, he does understand all too clearly the need to do what is right._

_Radio silence from Peter for a week. He doesn’t get reports from Karen either, even though Peter’s swinging around in the suit. Peter must have hacked it again, then. Tony hears from May that she’s yelled at him about it since she’s not getting anything either, but Tony can’t even find it in himself to be angry._

_He’s considering leaving another apology in Peter’s voicemail when the news comes._

_It’s past midnight, and Tony’s in his lab again when FRIDAY says, “Boss, I think you need to see this.”_

_‘This’ is a dark, shaky video of a small crowd cornering Peter as Spider-Man, who has his hands up in a placating gesture. They pay him no heed, shout obscenities and threats that make Tony’s blood boil. Peter starts climbing a wall. Tony becomes lightheaded when one of the bricks flying up from the crowd clocks Peter right on the head as he’s dodging other debris being thrown his way._

_Peter crumples downward, and Tony can’t breathe as he watches the crowd let him fall. They kick at his prone body; Tony has to swallow down bile at the sight. A passing group of people tries to intervene, god bless, but they’re chased off._

_Afterward, someone parades Peter around before throwing him in the trunk of a car and driving off._

_“Fuck,” says Tony. “Shit! FRIDAY, you’re tracking that license plate, right?”_

_“Of course, boss. Peter just entered a parking garage on 89th Avenue in Queens.”_

_“Alert the team and get me a suit.”_

_“On it.”_

_As Tony blasts toward the coordinates FRIDAY provides, he conjures up a million images of what they could be doing to Peter right now. Regrets not having contacted Peter and apologized earlier. Wonders if he’ll be too late. Quashes the thought immediately._

_It doesn’t leave him alone. The few minutes it takes him to rocket across Manhattan and Queens are agony._

_When he arrives at the correct floor of the dimly lit parking garage, he finds Peter sitting on the dank floor and hugging his knees to his chest. The unconscious bodies of his assailants are strewn around him._

_“Oh my god, Peter.” Tony’s suit retracts and he kneels on the floor next to Peter, hands fluttering uselessly around him. He wants to hold his kid, but there are bruises littering his face and who knows where else. “Peter, Peter.”_

_“Mr. Stark,” says Peter, voice muffled by his knees._

_“Peter.” Tony lets out a shaky breath. “Oh god, are you okay? How hurt are you?”_

_“Mr. Stark?”_

_“Peter? Can you understand me?”_

_Peter only blinks slowly up at him. Tony’s heart falls._

_“I’m going to take your mask off, okay?”_

_“I’m okay,” Peter mumbles, answering his first question._

_Tony gently takes Peter’s mask off and sucks in a breath. His pupils are uneven. Concussion._

_Peter blinks again, closes his eyes, and starts to nod off._

_“Hey, hey, no, stay awake, okay?”_

_Peter mumbles something Tony can’t catch. Doesn’t open his eyes._

_“FRI, can I move him?”_

_“Yes, boss, Karen says to just be careful with his head.”_

_“You’re in contact with Karen?”_

_“Peter never turned off the emergency reporting module. She sent an alert a few seconds before we arrived.”_

_“Okay. Tell Helen to prep the medbay. And get SHIELD to take care of Peter’s attackers.” He barely resists the urge to kick them while they’re down and see how they like it._

_“Got it.”_

_Peter doesn’t quite wake up on the trip back. Tony’s heart pounds the entire way._

_Dr. Cho takes Peter away for an MRI. In half an hour, Peter’s in surgery for intracranial bleeding._

_Hours later, Dr. Cho gives the news to May and Tony. “The bleeding and swelling have stopped, but he’s exhibiting signs that he’s in a coma.”_

_May frowns. “When will he wake up?”_

_“We don’t know.”_

_Peter’s not awake when SHIELD solves the case three days later, catches the magical serial killer somewhere in Pennsylvania. He’s not awake as the anti-enhanced attitudes die down to the level they were before this winter. He’s not awake when Tony talks to him, repeats all his myriad apologies, begs him to open his eyes._

_Two weeks later, while May is at work, Peter’s croaky voice says, “Mr. Stark?”_

_Tony’s head shoots up from where he’s been dozing. “Peter.”_

_They stare at each other for a second. Tony starts, “Peter, I’m so sorry, I—”_

_“Mr. Stark, I already heard all your sorries in my voicemail. You’re fine, I promise.” Peter shifts in his bed so he’s sitting up. “I should be the one apologizing right now. I shouldn’t have ghosted you or turned off the tracking and reporting modules. That was immature. I’m sorry.”_

_“Apology accepted,” says Tony. He looks away briefly at the flowers May’s bought for Peter, then turns his gaze back toward Peter, whose arms are splayed out by his side. Tony takes one of the kid’s hands in his, and a wave of affection threatens to stifle his whole being. Not for the first time, he stops himself from blurting out a declaration of love to the kid. Instead, what he says is, “I just don’t like seeing you hurt, Pete.”_

_“I know,” says Peter. He hesitates before his next words. “But I won’t ever stop, you know that, right? I’ll be more careful, but I can’t stop. Not for anything.”_

_“I know, I know.” The suffocating fondness makes it difficult to argue any further. Isn’t being more careful good enough anyway?_

_Peter relaxes, and they talk about lighter topics until it’s time for lunch. Tony unsuccessfully tries to stop wondering about how Peter would react if he knew Tony thought of him as a son. He doesn’t say anything out loud to find out for himself._

_They fall into their regular pattern of banter and jokes soon after. They don’t have the conversations they need to have that winter. For better or for worse, they put it off until the next crisis._

_Definitely for worse,_ thinks Tony as he watches himself shove a repulsor to Peter’s head.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon: *hits peter with a train* *peter turns out relatively fine???*  
> me: *hits peter with a brick and lets him get kicked around a bit* *peter is in a coma for two weeks* it’s for the DRAMA don’t @ me


	8. watching, silently weeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See last chapter for note on violence. This chapter is the one with the referenced child abuse, and, come to think of it, onscreen abuse of a child. Poor Peter. 
> 
> The villain also makes a short misogynistic comment.

“Oh, Peter Parker,” says a voice that is Tony’s and not Tony’s. “How nice to meet you again. Your father cares very much about you, you know.”

Peter gasps in pain around the tight grip on his wrist, eyes the repulsor to his head warily. “You know, he’s not actually my dad.”

The slap is unexpected. Peter winces as the repulsor whirrs up again. “Don’t play word games with me, boy,” the spirit snarls. “If he weren’t a father, I wouldn’t be able to possess him. And it’s clear as day from his thoughts that you’re the kid he loves like his own.”

Peter’s mouth tightens. These are things that are Tony’s to tell him. “Get out of his head.”

“Fat chance. Gotta take care of you first.”

Peter’s eyes dart around the room. A clap of thunder shakes the furniture. The sound of pounding rain roars in his ears. “What exactly is your beef with me, man?”

“You’re a disrespectful little shit. You need to be punished for your misbehavior.”

This time, Peter sees the hit coming. He rubs his jaw with his free hand. “All right, I’ve been punished. Let me go now?”

“Children should obey orders, not make requests.” Another punch.

Peter tries to get away from the spirit’s grip, but it’s difficult when he’s also trying not to hurt Tony. He’s scared if he uses any type of force, he’ll crush Tony with his strength. He knows he can do it, even with the gauntlets in the way. So all he ends up doing is pull them around the living room, crashing over tables and the TV. He prays that Steve hears them over the pouring rain.

The spirit won’t let him go, and every attempt to escape apparently merits more hitting and ranting. “He wastes his time taking care of you, when all you do is disobey and mouth off at him. Can’t follow a simple order to go home. God, if you were my kid, this is what you’d be getting every day.”

It hurts. Peter’s crying now, despite all his efforts not to. “Stop—please stop it.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

With the next punch, Peter lashes out instinctively, knees Tony’s stomach. The spirit lets Peter go and stumbles into a lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. Peter falls to the floor as well, but before he can get on his feet, he finds a repulsor in his face.

Holding a hand to Tony’s stomach, the spirit snarls, “Piece of shit! So this is how you want to go?”

Peter’s tense and ready to move. He doesn’t know if he can dodge a repulsor blast at such a short distance, though. His heart pounds in his ears.

Suddenly, red lights swirl into the room and around Tony’s feet.

“Oh, fuck,” says the spirit. His face twists into an ugly expression. “Don’t think I’m not taking you with me, though.”

That’s when the door breaks down.

* * *

_A few moments earlier:_

Gwen knocks on the apartment a few halls down from the Collins’, tries to brush her wet hair into something acceptable as she waits for an answer. She hopes it’s one of the right doors.

Gwen lets out a breath when Mr. Fredrickson opens the door a few seconds later. “Gwen! What are you doing here? There’s a thunderstorm outside.”

“Hi, Mr. Fredrickson. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but Peter wasn’t answering his phone. It doesn’t look like I have anything to worry about, though. I can’t hear what they’re saying because the storm’s so loud, but he and his dad seem to be talking something out. I was just asking if I could maybe wait inside until the storm is over, if that’s not too big of a deal?”

Mr. Fredrickson blinks at Gwen’s rambling. “Peter’s home? I didn’t notice that.”

Gwen chuckles. “Haha, yeah, I’d imagine not.”

“You didn’t answer her question, dumbass,” says Ms. Kovaleva, coming up behind Mr. Fredrickson. “Of course you can stay, Gwen; come in, come in.”

Mr. Fredrickson keeps the door open after Gwen enters and stays by it. Gwen shoots his back a confused look before Ms. Kovaleva asks, “Do you know what time Peter returned?”

“No. He didn’t text the group chat back. Maybe he’s just waiting for the conversation with his dad to be over?”

“Oh god,” Mr. Fredrickson says abruptly, turning back to the two of them. “We need to go, now.”

Gwen looks curiously at him; he’s become pale in a matter of seconds. “What’s wrong?”

He ignores her question. “Kovaleva, get Blythe and Jacques. This is a code red.”

Ms. Kovaleva says, “Got it,” and exits the apartment, running down the hall.

“Dammit, I knew I should have insisted on staying with him in this weather,” mutters Mr. Fredrickson as he puts on his shoes.

“Uh, what’s going on?” asks Gwen again. She already knows Peter’s uncles and aunt are idiosyncratic from her dinner with them, but this is an entire other level of eccentricity.

“We’re going to see what Dex and Peter are up to. You should stay here,” Mr. Fredrickson tells Gwen.

“With all due respect, now I’m actually worried about Peter again. I gotta make sure he’s fine so I can chew him out for refusing to answer texts under extremely worrying circumstances.”

“You can do that after we check on him.”

“What’s wrong with me coming to check on him with you?”

“Just—”

Gwen’s pretty sure Mr. Fredrickson’s first name isn’t Steve. She peeks out the doorway at Mr. Blythe. “Wow, did you curl your hair?”

“Oh my god, there’s a child here,” says Mr. Jacques from behind Mr. Blythe. Gwen stares. He’s shaved all his hair off.

Ms. Kovaleva waves to get everyone’s attention. “No time to discuss, let’s get a move on. Blythe, stay here with Gwen.”

Oh, that’s not happening. Gwen pushes her way to the front of the group as they stride toward the Collins’ apartment. It’s only thirty seconds away. “I’m sorry? What are you going to do? Restrain me? I’m pretty sure that’s assault.”

She feels someone grab her forearm. “Hey!”

“Kid, this is not the time or place for any of this. You really shouldn’t be here,” says Mr. Blythe.

Gwen goes limp in his grip. “You’re going to have to drag me away. Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Dragged away it is,” declares Mr. Blythe.

They’re standing outside the Collins’ door already when Mr. Blythe starts pulling Gwen away. She can hear the impression of voices again against the rain and thunder shaking the complex.

The muffled sound of glass crashing to the floor and breaking suddenly makes its way to the people standing outside. Gwen jumps in Mr. Blythe’s grasp.

“Guys, I’m sending an emergency alert right now,” says Mr. Fredrickson. “And then I’m busting down the door.”

Gwen gapes at him. These people are _nuts_.

A few things happen in quick succession: Mr. Fredrickson presses two buttons simultaneously on his watch; he throws himself against the door, which gives way with a loud, thunderlike crack; and golden sparks begin materializing in thin air. In a few seconds, Dr. Stephen Fucking Strange steps through a portal, alongside two other sorcerers, hands up and glowing with red energy that tangles its way into the apartment room.

Gwen is frozen for a second before she bites down hard on the wrist holding her ( _“Hey!”_ ) and slips from Mr. Blythe’s grip. She follows the adults into the apartment room. Freezes again when she sees what’s in there.

Mr. Collins, eyes pitch black. A sneer twisting his face. Peter on the floor not a few feet away, eyes red and teary, face littered with bruises. One of Mr. Collins’s arms in an Iron Man gauntlet, repulsor pointed at Peter’s head. The other arm around his stomach.

A red circle glows beneath the feet of Mr. Collins—Dr. Stark, Gwen realizes. The circle seems to trap him there. Dr. Strange and the sorcerers approach.

Dr. Stark speaks, and it’s his voice and not his voice, layered into an unholy harmony. Gwen shivers. “Come any closer and I blast the kid’s brains out.”

Dr. Strange holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Surely you can—”

“Any of you sorcerers talk and I blast the kid’s brains out!”

Dr. Strange shuts his mouth, expression tight. He looks toward the other adults.

“Now, I usually don’t do this with a crowd,” the thing using Dr. Stark’s body says. “But I don’t mind. Sometimes discipline needs an audience.”

“ _Discipline_? That’s why you’re going around killing children?” says Mr. Blythe—Happy Hogan. He’s stopped trying to drag Gwen away, too distracted by the shitshow in front of his face.

“Yes, discipline. Kids these days are so unruly and ungrateful. When they’re this old, they’re already ruined for life. Best to just put them down after their punishment.”

“That’s rather…extreme,” says Colonel Rhodes.

“You’re too soft. All the parents of these kids are too soft.”

“I don’t think most people would call Tony soft,” the Black Widow says.

“He wanted to apologize. That’s where I come in. Always have to prevent these people from making a grave mistake. I never apologized to my children. Ungrateful brats.”

“You’re a ghost, then,” says Strange, then immediately shuts his mouth as the ghost snarls.

“Don’t talk. But yes, I am. I died because one of my kids ended up killing me. My eldest son.”

“Wonder what you did to merit that,” drawls Ms. Romanoff.

“Nothing! I was a good parent. My children just didn’t understand it. Couldn’t take a light beating every now and then. I suppose I didn’t hit them enough.”

Gwen can see the expressions of the adults in the room grow even more sour than they were before.

The ghost jerks Dr. Stark’s head toward Peter. “This one definitely never gets hit enough. Too mouthy. Doesn’t see how his father is just looking out for his own safety.”

Peter takes a shaky breath in. “I don’t take my own safety seriously enough, so you’re beating me up? Wow. Amazing logic.”

The ghost shoots a warning shot at Peter’s feet. Everyone flinches. “See? Mouthy little shit. Doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You kill the kid, and we’ll be all over you,” says Mr. Hogan.

“I let the kid go, and you’ll be all over me then too. From where I’m standing, it looks like I can get one last one in before you send me off to wherever I’m going.”

“Hell,” says Ms. Romanoff. “You’re definitely going to hell.”

“If that’s what I get for exacting justice, I’m fine with it.”

“You’re not ‘exacting justice,’” says Gwen, voice not trembling as much as she expected. “You’re just an asshole.”

The ghost looks down at her. “Girls. More trouble than they’re worth. Best just to leave them alone.”

“What was that? Can’t hear you over how pathetic you are.”

Peter muffles a laugh. The spirit glares and seems to care an awful lot about what Gwen says despite his words. “I’m not pathetic. I’m doing a service to society! For too long, we’ve—”

He’s cut off by a coordinated attack by James Rhodes and Steve Rogers, the two men having inched slowly toward the ghost while everyone was talking. Colonel Rhodes shields Peter from the ghost while Captain Rogers shoves the repulsor upward. It goes off, scorching the wall of the apartment instead of Peter’s face. A struggle ensues as the ghost tries to break free of Captain Roger’s grasp while Colonel Rhodes pulls Peter up to his feet, gives him a shoulder to lean on.

“Strange!” barks Captain Rogers. “Now!”

Dr. Strange quickly performs a series of complicated gestures. At the end, he simply says, “You’re not needed here. Move on.”

The red lights fade, and Dr. Stark goes slack in Captain Rogers’s grip before gasping and straightening up. “Oh god, is it gone?”

“Yes,” says Dr. Strange. “It’s gone for good now.”

“Peter,” says Dr. Stark. “Peter, are you all right?”

“I’m—I’m fine.” His voice is trembling. “I, uh, I think my wrist is broken. But I’m good. Are you?”

“Your wrist is broken? Oh my god,” says Dr. Stark. “Strange, can you get us to the Tower medbay?”

“Of course.” In a flash, Peter, Dr. Strange, Dr. Stark, Colonel Rhodes, and Captain Rogers are gone.

“I’ve sent the all-clear,” says Ms. Romanoff, fiddling with her watch. “SHIELD will still be here in about two minutes. Gwen,” she turns toward her, “you should probably go back to our apartment before they get here, or they’ll ask you all sorts of banal questions. One of us can walk you back to your dorm room when we’re done.”

Gwen nods. She’s shaking now, off of the high of adrenaline.

“Do you have your phone with you?”

Gwen blinks at the non sequitur. “Yeah, why?”

“Open up your contacts and give it to me.”

Not wanting to say no to the Black Widow, Gwen does so.

Ms. Romanoff clicks and types a few things before handing Gwen her phone back. “You have my number now if you want to talk about what happened. Don’t tell anyone else, okay? SHIELD will send out something official by tomorrow. Stick with the story. Peter’s not a public figure, and we don’t want information about him getting out.”

“Is—is Peter his real name?” Gwen asks. She’ll process the fact that she has Natasha Romanoff’s number saved on her phone later.

“Peter is his real first name. He’ll probably tell you his surname if you ask.”

“It’s not Stark, is it?”

Ms. Romanoff laughs. “No, it’s not, but that is a good guess.”

Ms. Romanoff gives Gwen the keys to their apartment; she goes and stays for almost an hour, texting Ned and lying awake on a couch before Mr. Hogan comes to walk her back to the university. The core of the storm has passed them by now, and it’s only drizzling as they walk back.

Gwen manages to sneak back into her designated dorm room undetected by everyone except her roommate, who only gives her a raised eyebrow. Gwen shrugs and crawls into her bed. It takes her a while to fall asleep. 

* * *

**Wed, Aug 8,** 10:56 PM  
  
**Ned:** did you find him gwen  
**Ned:** and are you safe too? can’t believe you two are running around in a thunderstorm  
**Ned:** tbf though me and mj would probably be joining you if we were there  
**Ned:** so i can’t judge you that much   
**Ned:** i will, however, judge peter for starting it  
**Ned:** anyway  
**Ned:** text me back when you can?   
  
**Wed, Aug 8,** 11:17 PM  
  
**Gwen:** I found him  
**Gwen:** and we’re both fine   
**Gwen:** or we will be  
**Gwen:** this has been a rough night  
  
**Ned:** what happened???  
  
**Gwen:** you’ll have to ask peter for the exact details   
**Gwen:** dunno when he’ll be able to reply to you  
**Gwen:** but he’s in good hands right now, i promise  
  
**Ned:** okay, i’ll be patient  
  
**Gwen:** I think i’m done for the day  
**Gwen:** gonna try to take a nap before someone walks me back to the dorms   
**Gwen:** then it’s straight to bed for me   
  
**Ned:** sounds like a plan  
**Ned:** g’night then  
  
**Gwen:** night  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwen watching the Shady Shit™ go down is influenced by [trust me to take you home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898570/chapters/60247681), which just so happens to be the sequel to the work I linked back in chapter 3. 
> 
> Another influence on this chapter is one of my giftee’s fics, [my old man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440847). The villains have similar mindsets. I actually only realized this when I reread the fic a few days ago, but I don’t doubt it served as an unconscious inspiration.
> 
> Anyway!! three chapters in one day, woo! one last one to go :)


	9. weep not, child

Tony and Peter aren’t able to talk before they’re whisked away for separate diagnoses and treatments. Peter overhears that Tony goes into surgery for internal bleeding. He tries to ignore the guilt that eats at him and spends his night texting Ned and MJ with one hand before drifting off.

In the morning, Happy, Rhodey, and May bring Peter breakfast from the donut shop on the Tower’s fiftieth floor. Peter thanks them and listens politely as Rhodey fills up the silence with stories of stupid things Tony’s done after May rushes off to work.

Natasha and Steve visit a little after lunch. Natasha tells him they think they’ve found the identity of the ghost, not that it helps now. His son was in the news for killing his father in self-defense. Steve tries to hide from Peter the anxious looks he casts toward Tony, but Peter catches some of them. His guilt from last night returns.

An hour or so after they leave, SHIELD publicly declares the mission a success. Tony’s still asleep in the cot next to his when Peter finds the press release. He scrolls through SHIELD’s website with blank eyes. They’re vague on the details; they only say that the Order of the Mystic Arts managed to find and banish the spirit behind the deaths. They don’t mention anything about undercover missions or the Avengers being onsite. They barely comment on Spider-Man’s own presence.

He exits out of his browser app and goes to his messages. Opens his chat with Gwen.

**Thu, Aug 9,** 1:57 PM  
  
**Peter:** hey  
  
**Gwen:** hey  
**Gwen:** how’s the wrist?   
  
**Peter:** its doing okay  
**Peter:** its just sprained, so i should be fine in a few days  


(His wrist is in fact broken, but if he says that he’ll have to either lie about the prognosis or reveal his healing factor. So, sprained it is to Gwen.)

**Peter:** i heal pretty easily anyway   
  
**Gwen:** I don’t even want to know how you know that  
  
**Peter:** yeah probably not  
  
**Gwen:** they’re saying you’ve dropped out   
**Gwen:** which, understandable   
**Gwen:** are you in nyc?   
  
**Peter:** yeah, this is where i actually live  
**Peter:** you pinned my queens accent on the first day  
  
**Gwen:** I knew it!!  
**Gwen:** what do you think about meeting up when i get back home?   
  
**Peter:** i think its a good idea! gotta properly introduce you to ned and mj. and ill be all healed up by then too, so it wont be an issue  
  
**Gwen:** cool!   
  
**Peter:** as of now tho it looks like ill be spending my bday tomorrow in a hospital   
**Peter:** all the adults around me are like ‘we have to monitor you!!’ but like for WHAT it’s a WRIST   
  
**Gwen:** dude that sucks   
  
**Peter:** ikr   
  
**Gwen:** happy early bday ig???? you made it to, what, 17?  
  
**Peter:** yup, 17  
**Peter:** and thank u, it has been a ride and an honor these past few weeks, gwendolyne maxine stacy   
  
**Gwen:** ...can i ask you what your real name is?   
  
**Peter:** its parker  
**Peter:** peter benjamin parker   
  
**Gwen:** alliteration. neat  
  
**Peter:** i live in an apartment in queens with my aunt   
**Peter:** shes a nurse  
**Peter:** the part about the dead mom was true  
**Peter:** i also have a dead dad  
**Peter:** real introductions are so fun   
  
_Gwen is typing…_

Gwen sits there typing for a few seconds longer than usual. Peter wonders if he put her off.

**Gwen:** so how does dr. stark factor into all that?   


Peter purses his lips.

**Peter:** i dont know   
**Peter:** we havent talked about it yet   


He quickly follows up with:

**Peter:** you know, i call him mr stark  
**Peter:** for the aesthetic   
  
**Gwen:** for...for the aesthetic?   


“Peter?”

It’s Tony. Peter shoots a quick message to Gwen, gets out of his cot, and goes to sit next to Tony’s. “Mr. Stark. You’re awake.”

Tony raises a hand toward the bandages on Peter’s face, seems to think better of it and instead scrubs it over his own eyes. “Peter, we need to talk.”

Peter knows what he means, but he still says, “Yeah? We’re talking right now.”

“I mean actually talk. About—about everything.”

Peter’s quiet for a second, looks away. “Yeah. I know.”

Tony sighs. “You were right about us being able to catch the spirit. But I can’t find it in myself to regret asking us to come home.”

Peter breathes out, clenches and unclenches his hands. Looks at Tony. “How can you say that? We did it. It’s not out there anymore because of us.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t be sorry, Peter, I really am. But I—I just.” Tony looks away; his voice cracks as he says, “I hurt you.”

Peter stares at him. “That’s such a bullshit excuse.”

“Peter—”

“There were extenuating circumstances.” Peter breaks eye contact. “You weren’t even in control of your own actions. I was. I should be the guilty one.”

“What?” Tony sounds incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous. You acted in self-defense—”

“Did it really help me? All I got out of it was a repulsor to the face.” Peter regrets the way Tony flinches at the words. He continues, “I’ll agree that it wasn’t wrong if you agree that it wasn’t you who hurt me.”

Tony looks at Peter. His eyes are shiny. “Okay. It’s just—I can’t look at your face without feeling all this guilt.”

Peter crosses his arms on the bed, lays his head down. “I feel guilty about your stomach too. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Tony smiles wanly. “My head knows. I wish my heart could too.”

“Do you still not regret asking us to leave?”

“Peter…” Tony sucks in a breath. “It scares me, sometimes, the things I wouldn’t regret doing for you.” Peter sees Tony blink away tears. “No. I don’t regret it. Because it is my most honored privilege to protect you, and I can’t regret anything that fulfills that prerogative.”

“Mr. Stark—”

Tony holds up a hand. “I’m not done yet, Pete. I don’t regret asking to leave, but I _am_ glad that we stayed long enough to stop it. I know it was right, in my head and in my heart. It would have weighed on my soul if we really did leave.”

“I think that’s regret, Mr. Stark. So you _can_ regret actions taken to keep me safe. ‘Can’t regret anything that fulfills that prerogative’ my a—”

Tony casts him an unimpressed look and Peter shuts up. “I would not have regretted the part where you were safe. I would have regretted the part where I turned my back on a situation that needed my help. Because I get it, I really do: ‘when you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen—’”

“‘—they happen because of you,’” Peter and Tony say together.

Peter nods. “And we could. And we did it, in the end. The right thing.”

“Yes. And isn’t that more important than whatever feelings we had along the way?”

“Well, sure, but talking about feelings is still helpful, is what a lot of people tell me.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Listen to those people. They’re wiser than I am.” He shifts around in his cot, glances away. Hesitantly, he says, “I still don’t think the public should have known, though.”

Peter sighs. “I know. And—and I get it. The truth getting out affects more people than just myself. Honestly, I agree with you. I was just angry when I said that. And still processing the whole thing.”

“Ah.”

A few seconds of silence follow. Peter chews the inside of his cheek. “So is that it? Are we never going to have another argument over safety again? Or are we gonna go through this every time I go beyond a mugging?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Realistically? Somewhere in between those two extremes you gave me, bud.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter says. He looks away from Tony. “I just. I want you to trust me, I guess.”

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Peter turns his face back to Tony. His forehead is creased. “I do trust you. I trust in your goodness, your kindness, your willingness to help. I trust in your abilities, believe it or not. I just want to make sure I’m doing all I can to have your back. And being a worrywart is part of that. Considering all the possibilities, that’s my thing, you know?”

Peter blows out a breath. “I guess. No, yeah. I understand.”

Tony hums and runs a hand through Peter’s hair. “We do understand each other. I promise.”

Peter leans into Tony’s touch. That understanding is all he truly wants.

The lids of his eyes start to flutter with drowsiness.

“Pete.” Tony’s voice catches Peter drifting off to a doze.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep now. There’s still one more thing we have to talk about.”

Peter blinks as Tony brushes hair out of Peter’s eyes. “What is it?”

Tony tilts his head toward Peter. “You know that what most of the spirit said was bunk, right?”

“I—yeah. Of course I do.”

“Even so, it bears saying out loud. You’re not a waste of time. You don’t deserve to suffer. Mouthing off is good.”

Peter props his head back up. “I know, Mr. Stark. You program your AIs to mouth off at you.”

“It did say one true thing, though.” Tony smiles even as he furrows his brows. “I care very much about you.”

Peter’s fully awake again. He remembers the exact words and the ones that followed. “I know,” he says carefully. “You said earlier it was your most honored privilege to protect me.”

“But it’s not just—care or honor. Peter, I—” Tony pauses and looks away from Peter’s face.

Peter’s suddenly scared that the ghost was mistaken, or that he himself has sorely misinterpreted something. “You don’t have to say it, Mr. Stark.”

“Yes, I do!” Tony startles Peter with the force behind his words. “I’m sorry—”

“—it’s okay—”

“—I just.” Tony looks back at Peter. “I should have told you a long time ago. Then maybe you wouldn’t have had to hear it while I was possessed of all things.” He takes a deep breath. Holding Peter’s gaze, Tony says steadily, “Peter. This is how I see you: you’re my son. And I love you.”

Peter, to his own horror, starts crying at the admission.

Tony withdraws the hand that’s been running through Peter’s hair, hesitates as he says, “Is—is there something wrong?” Quietly, “Do you—do you not—?”

“No! No, it’s not that,” says Peter, rubbing tears from his eyes. He smiles widely, genuinely. Thinks about his next words, so they can be as considered as Tony’s. “I love you too. And I think of you like that as well, even if I don’t really use the exact words.”

Tony blinks tears down his own face. “Oh. That’s why you’re crying.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah.”

Tony uses his thumb to swipe at Peter’s tears. “Well, it’s very misleading.”

“You can take that up with my eyes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Peter lays his head back down on his arms, smiles up at Tony, eyes blinking tiredly.

“If you’re going to fall asleep, at least do it on your bed.”

“‘S too far away.”

Tony sighs, but Peter can see the upturned quirk of his lips. “Then get up here, you cuddle monster.”

Peter happily complies as Tony scoots over to make room for him. Leans his head on Tony’s shoulder, is sure this time of the kiss to his forehead.

Falls asleep there, next to comfort and home, safety and love.

* * *

_Weep not, child,_   
_Weep not, my darling,_   
_With these kisses let me remove your tears,_   
_The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,_   
_They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition,_   
_Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge,_   
_They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again,_   
_The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure,_   
_The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine._

_Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter?_   
_Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?_

_Something there is,_   
_(With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,_   
_I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)_   
_Something there is more immortal even than the stars,_   
_(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)_   
_Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter_   
_Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,_   
_Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades._

—Walt Whitman, [“On the Beach at Night”](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45475/on-the-beach-at-night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter knows EXACTLY why he’s stuck in the medbay. because the last time SOMEONE broke a bone and was given instructions to lay off the superheroing, that SOMEONE did not listen despite nodding along without protest 
> 
> fyi, peter’s aesthetic is pretending to be polite but actually being a little shit 
> 
> and to round everything out: i’m soft and i love them

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who’s read this far, left a kudo, or written a comment. I hope you all enjoyed.


End file.
